


What The Water Gave Me

by fiach_dubh



Series: Pirate Molly AU [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Come-eating - Freeform, Feelings, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Major Character Injury, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Molly and Caleb have different backstories, Mutual Pining, Pirate AU, Pirate Captain Molly, Pirates, Rating for later chapters, Riding, Secrets, Semi clothed sex, Sex, Slow Burn, Violence, everyone figures out Molly's in love before he does, fantasising, fun pirates not bad pirates, sensitive tiefling tails, sex with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-04-27 21:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14434161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiach_dubh/pseuds/fiach_dubh
Summary: A completely self-indulgent pirate au from someone who knows a lot about pirates but nothing about boats.When Captain Mollymauk Tealeaf, terror of the seas, finds a captured Caleb Widogast, Wizard, in the brig of a ship he raids, things change for him. Drastically.Featuring irritated Yasha, protective Nott, Swashbuckling, magic and desperate first love.





	1. Chapter 1

Molly had a bound man kneeling at his feet. It wasn’t the first time. It probably wouldn’t be the last time either.

They’d found this particular bound man in the brig of the ship they’d raided, along with a goblin. Even bound, bruised, exhausted, he’d strained to protect the little goblin, eyes blazing. Molly could appreciate that kind of loyalty and bravery, and had ordered him brought aboard, with the rest of the stolen treasure.

And now he was there, head bowed, tangled dirty ginger hair falling over his bruised face. His chest was rising and falling fast. The little goblin was being restrained by Yasha, hissing and shrieking and wriggling.

“You know, this is really working for me,” Molly said, before he could stop himself. 

With that the man looked up, eyes very blue against his pale and filthy face, against the truly impressive yellowing bruises on the side of his face.

“Do not harm her. The goblin.”

“I didn’t have you two wrestled on board to harm you,” Molly said. “What’s your name?”

A pause. “Caleb. Caleb Widogast.”

“Hello Caleb.” Molly grinned, wide, sharp-toothed, dangerous. “I am the infamous Mollymauk Tealeaf, terror of the seas, seducer of innocents, enemy of any state you could claim to name. Molly, to my friends.”

“Stop flirting, Molly, this one’s wriggly!” Yasha shouted.

Molly waved a hand at her. “Keelhauling!” he said, not meaning it in the least.

“Caleb. Why were you and your little goblin friend in that brig?”

Caleb dropped his gaze.

“I -” he said

“HE SAVED ME! HE SAVED ME! DON’T YOU TOUCH HIM!” The goblin shrieked.

“I mutinied. Or tried to,” Caleb said. “As you see, it did not go well.”

He had an accent that Molly placed as Zemnian. There had been no other Zemnian’s on the ship that he could remember, and there were a lot of gaps in this mutiny explanation. But ultimately, did it matter?

Molly crouched in front of Caleb. “Well. Since you’re already a mutineer, perhaps you won’t mind being a pirate. You and your friend.”

Caleb hunched over on himself and closed his eyes tight. “And if I say no?”

Molly tilted his head. “We dump you two in the nearest port and leave you to it, of course. We’re not the empire. We have no need to man our ships with the unwilling.”

“We don’t just go over the side?”

Molly frowned. “Of course not.”

“Then why all - this?” Caleb gestured with his head to the situation. Him on his knees, the crew watching, the goblin restrained.

Molly laughed. “I like the drama.”

Caleb turned his head over to where the goblin kicked her legs in Yasha’s grip.

“Nott,” he said. “I will not speak for you. Do you wish to stay here? Be a pirate?”

The goblin - Nott - stopped kicking. “Will I be allowed to collect the shiny things?”

Molly grinned at her. “That, my dear, is the whole point.”

She frowned. “A-alright,” she said. “But if we don’t like it we get to leave!”

Molly nodded. “We’ll untie you both. Find you a place to sleep. Figure out your role on deck. And as soon as we’re in port - a proper welcome!”

Molly paced round to behind Caleb, and with a showy gesture, cut the ropes binding him. Caleb climbed slowly to his feet, rubbing the life back into his arms and hands. Standing straight, he’d be a little taller than Molly, but he stooped. 

“Well, “ he said. “One thing you might find useful.” And he lit his hand on fire.

Molly pressed a hand to the bare skin over his heart, watched Caleb track it. “A wizard,” he said. “It’s like they wrapped you up as a secret present, just for me.” He licked his lips, deliberate and seductive. “Crew! We have a wizard! Even more ships to plunder!”

There was a ragged, raucous cheer.

Molly leaned in until he was very close to Caleb. He had a lovely jaw line. Molly idly considered nibbling his way along that jaw. “Welcome to The Pretty Peacock, Caleb Widogast.”

He turned on his heel and sauntered off. “Yasha! Show our new crewmember the ropes. Fjord! How far out are we from port?”

Fjord, his marvellous and marvellously attractive navigator put his hands in his pockets. “Four days with fair wind and no storms, Captain.”

“Good, good. Let’s get going.”

-

Caleb fitted in just fine. He was quiet, and preferred to keep to himself, but he was never rude or unkind. The crew liked him, almost immediately. He and Nott would take their meals with the rest. Two days out of port and he was already there, a tiny half smile on his face as Jester talked. And talked. And talked a little more.

After she was done and had swanned back to her ‘cabin’, Molly took the chance to sweep into Jester’s abandoned seat.

“Caleb,” he said, drawling it. “How you settling in to our little criminal family?”

Caleb blinked at him. “Does Jester know this is a pirate ship?”

“You know, I’m not entirely sure? She paid us for travel and never left. She heals my people sometimes, but - she could just think we’re a very unlucky passenger ship.”

Molly rested his chin on his fist and grinned into Caleb’s confused face. 

“And you,” Caleb said, looking at the table.

“And me.” Molly said.

“Fuck, he’s the worst. Worst captain I ever had.”

Molly rolled his eyes. 

“Only captain you ever had, Beau!”

Beau leaned over the table. There was a little… something… on her face and she was scowling. She rarely did anything else.

“You let your crew speak to you like this?” Caleb asked, but his mouth was twitching a tiny amount.

“Long as she does her job, what do I care if she gets her aggression out being a ridiculous child?”

“Fuck you, Mollymauk.”

“Fuck you right back, Beau.”

And all this without breaking his seductive gaze. Molly would be proud of himself if it was working at all. Caleb was a little pink, yes, but it could just be the effect of sun on his pale skin. 

“You need to be careful, Caleb,” Beau said. “Listen out when you head to his cabin.”

“Oi,” Molly said.

“Cause once when we had some of his… friends… on board I needed to talk to him, and I walked in, and gods, what I saw.”

Molly let his grin show all his teeth. “Ought to have knocked. Ought to have used your ears.”

“I’m just saying, if I wasn’t gay before, that’d have pushed me the rest of the way.”

Molly leaned back, put his arms behind his head, arched in a way he knew made a lot of people think of sex.

“She’s just jealous I can actually get people into bed.” 

Caleb was frowning. Good frown? Bad frown? Molly couldn’t tell. 

“I am not good at innuendo,” Caleb said slowly. “Do you mean you walked in on Captain Mollymauk having sex?”

He definitely went a little pinker asking that.

“With two people at once,” Beau said with an impressive twist of disgust on her face. “I’m not sure how I kept my respect for him.”

“You’ve never once respected me.”

Beau flipped her middle finger up at him. “Sometimes when he’s ordering me about I remember him on all fours on the floor -”

“Yes. Well.” Caleb said. His blush clashed with his hair. “I don’t think - Ah, Nott.” He sounded painfully relieved. “There you are.”

Beau got up with a hand raised in farewell. What a terrible, wonderful woman she was.

“Caleb!” Nott threw Molly a suspicious look. “Are they treating you alright?”

“I was just eating a little. No-one is going to mistreat me over lunch.”

“As long as you’re sure! Oh! The big one, Yasha?”

“My first mate,” Molly said. “Your boss, after me.”

Nott gave him a look that said, far more clearly than words ever could, that Molly was only in charge under her sufferance.

“Yasha said that as long as it wasn’t more than my fair share I could keep whatever I wanted from what we took!”

Caleb gave Molly a questioning look.

“It’s true. We run on a shares system. You’re new, so you’ll only have a little on this first return to port, but next time - full shares, for both of you.”

“Very generous.”

“If I wanted to pay you a pittance and get rich all on my own, I might as well be real navy.” Molly sneered. Shook it off. “Yasha and Fjord do the figuring on who’s owed what.”

“Not you?” 

Molly had a strange feeling he was being teased, mocked somehow. But Calebs face was utterly flat and unreadable. 

“Numbers were never my main strength. I’m better at the show.”

“I ought to get back to work. Or you’ll be throwing me off the ship.”

“Not you, darling. I’m sure I’d be happy to keep you around to look at.” 

Molly wasted one of his most devastating winks, as Caleb was busy looking at Nott eating. It was fascinating, Molly had to admit, and disturbing too.

“Well, I have work to do too. It’s not easy captaining this vessel.”

Molly headed back to the main deck, ready to give orders and shout if needed, wondering just when he’d become quite so ignorable. He glanced quickly down at himself. Nope, still dressed like he’d had an accident in a fabric mill, still lavender, still handsome.

“Huh,” he said to himself, and shook it off. It wasn’t like one dirty (but very pretty) wizard not being interested was a big deal.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t. Not for the next two days, and not when they got to port either, and the crew spilled off The Pretty Peacock with their shares ready for whorehouses, alehouses, tattooists and anyone else willing to take a pirate’s money. Caleb and Nott disappeared. Maybe they’d come back, maybe they wouldn’t. It’d be good if they did - Molly did like looking at Caleb, and a wizard was always a valuable person to have on side- but he wasn’t going to keep anyone against their will.

And Molly was an infamous Pirate Captain with a pretty face and money in his pocket, and that combination would ensure shore leave was a fun time.

And yes, it was very fun. First night in port he ran into a delightful triad - two men, human and a half-elf, and a charming tiefling woman - who between them all fucked him into incoherence as well as stealing some of his money. He couldn’t begrudge them it - he was still a little tender the following morning, and figured they’d earned what they’d walked away with.

He was walking through the market, enjoying the smells and sounds, spiced food cooking on an open pan, people shouting in accented common, sea birds screaming over it. Full of the satisfied peace that fills a person who recently got laid and is currently in his element.

Which is when he saw Caleb, bent over a stall with a frown on his face and his long, thin fingers dancing in the air. Nott was nowhere to be seen. It’d been less than a week and Molly already knew that was something to be concerned about.

Molly could have walked on, let Caleb have his time alone if he wanted it, but something inside Molly pouted like a spoiled child at the idea. And since he’d never ignored an impulse if it seemed like it might lead to something fun, he turned sharply and headed straight for Caleb.

Who apparently didn’t notice Molly until Molly was right on his flank. Gods, that level of distraction was going to get the man in trouble one day. He was looking through… books. Second hand and water-warped and past their best, picking through with a care, a focus that made Molly want to smile.

“I hope these are fun books,” Molly said. His tail flicked behind him, all mischief.  
Caleb jumped. “Captain Mollymauk.” 

Molly leaned into Caleb’s space, watched his face. Watched as Caleb’s eyes tracked down Molly’s disheveled clothes, the hickies, scratches and deep bruised bite marks on the expanse of purple chest revealed by his shirt. Caleb’s eyes flickered away, down to the table.

“You, ah - celebrated the return to port?”

“Hmm,” said Molly.”I’ll celebrate anything if you give me half a chance. Reminds me. We should get as many of the crew as we can and throw a party for our new friends.” 

“I am not so much a party man, Captain.”

“Shame. And it’s Molly, I already told you.”

Caleb shook his head, but he was - yes - definitely smiling. Small and faint, but there. 

“Maybe in time,” he said. 

Victory. A reaction. “If we were to celebrate yours and Nott’s joining our crew, what would you prefer? I’m easy.” Molly laughed. “Not like that! Well, yes, like that, but also I find all kinds of things a good time.” 

Caleb was actually looking at him now. Really looking at him. Having Caleb’s full attention left him wrongfooted, feeling unsteady and unsure, breathless. 

“Do you always do this?” Caleb asked, lips pursed and eyes intense.

“What?”

Caleb shook his head, broke the eye contact. “I think you like to tell me… hmm. Not lies, exactly? Not truths.”

Too close, too clear a sight. Molly laughed, a little hysterical. “I’m a pirate captain, Caleb. I lie, I bullshit. It’s safer to assume I’m never telling the full truth.”

“Ah.” What the fuck did that mean? Molly examined Caleb’s face for any clue, any clue at all. Nothing.

“What book _were_ you looking at, new crewman mine?”

“Ah, I was only browsing.” Caleb smiled up at the man behind the stall, who was watching them both with a kind of repressed amusement and confusion. How come some strange second hand tat dealer got more of a smile than Molly did? “I am always in the market for more books. I have lost all the ones I had before.”  
“I’ll replace them for you,” Molly said. What? That had come out of his mouth without any input from his brain. But it was worth it because Caleb was paying attention to him again. 

There was a silence between them. The sounds of the world around them crept in, but didn’t matter at all. Molly was looking at Caleb’s face, noticing - how lovely - that he had freckles across his forehead, his cheekbones. Molly wanted to press his mouth to every single freckle. He wondered if they went further down onto shoulders, chest. He had a clear image of Caleb spread out on Molly’s bed, pink under miles of freckles, hard and leaking, begging for Molly to touch him.

“No,” Caleb said and Molly was confused for a second, briefly paranoid that Caleb had somehow seen into his head, before remembering-

“No to the books.”

Caleb tilted his head. “What else would it be no to? You do not need to buy books for me. I will find them myself.”

“Alright,” Molly said. “Whatever you want.” Anything Caleb wanted.

Caleb gave him the strangest of looks. “It was - ah - good to run into you, Captain Mollymauk. I, er.”

They stared at each other.

“I ought to find Nott?” Caleb said.

“You’re a free man,” Molly said, helplessly. Caleb hesitated, nodded jerkily, and walked off without any further conversation.

Molly waited until he was out of earshot and eyeline before gently thudding his forehead against the stall. “Fuck,” he said, staring at splintered wood and a mouldy book.”Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The man behind the stall snorted. Molly lifted his head and looked him right in his eyes. “You can fuck off and all,” he said, before buying every book he’d seen Caleb touch.

-

It was a pretty random assortment of books, it turned out. He was three chapters into the first at the bar, trying to figure out if the shy, blushing stablehand was supposed to be attracted to the brooding lord or if it was one of those ‘they love each other as _brothers_ ’ kinds of deals. He reckoned they were going to start fucking by chapter 7 himself. He was just considering flicking through to the last chapter to confirm his suspicions when Yasha sat down heavily across from him.  
“Hello, darling,” he said, still looking at the page.

“Have fun last night?” 

“You know, you’re the second person to ask me that today.”

In response Yasha leaned right over the table and poked him - hard - in one of the more livid bitemarks.

“Ow.” Molly batted her hand away.

Yasha grinned at him.

“You’re terrible and I should have you hanged from the rigging.”

“You’d never. What are you reading?”

“Ninety percent sure it’s porn that just hasn’t got to the good stuff yet.” Molly folded a page over to keep his place and put the book down. “You want something. I can tell.”

“Hmm,” Yasha said. “It’s just a feeling.”

Molly pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and faked a swoon. “Feelings. For little old me?”

Yasha rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said. “Brush it off. Just. Be careful? With yourself?”

“All this time and you still protect me.”

Yasha reached out and tangled her fingers with his. “Always,” she said. “For however long I can.” 

“Worst thing that happened to me lately is someone not noticing when I flirted. My ego’s taken a knock, but I’m fine.”

He was fine. He was fine. But his eyes kept shifting to the door, hoping to see an already-familiar mess of ginger tangles, a hesitant stoop, a pair of bright blue eyes.

He was used to attraction. He was used to being turned down. Surprisingly enough, not everyone was interested in him. But this was bothering him more than he expected.

“You just went all quiet on me,” Yasha said.

“Yeah,” Molly said. “Sorry. Just… a little off, I suppose. Not quite myself. I might - “ he jerked a head up, indicating the rented room he took here. More practical than constantly taking the rowboat to and from The Pretty Peacock.

Yasha nodded. Bless her. She always understood.

He was probably just feeling a little strange from lack of sleep and too much drink the night before. That was surely all this was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masturbation in this one, constant reader.
> 
> I am reading ALL your comments but it's getting a bit overwhelming to respond. Thanks so much for your lovely words.

Molly knew only one sure-fire way to ease out his mental state and get himself a good nights sleep, and that was to get himself off.

He debated having it fast and dirty, but ultimately, no. He was in the mood to spoil himself. So he undressed fully, took the most tangly of his jewellery off and carefully laid it aside, before draping himself across the bed. He wished he had a mirror, to see himself properly; he liked his body, all his tattoos, his scars, his piercings.

He ran his hands down his chest, enjoying the contrast of textures. Scar tissue and smooth warm skin. He was already getting hard, just at the promise he was giving himself. His finger caught on the bar through his nipple and the small barely-pain sent heat through his blood to pool in his dick.

There were so many memories and fantasies he could use here, to make it work for him. He started with the most recent and freshest in his mind - last night, with the trio. The female tiefling had been first to undress, revealing an almost excessively curvy body with large, heavy breasts and plump thighs, and had wasted no time in sucking him down to the root. Just the memory of her hot, wet mouth on him had him hardening the rest of the way. He didn’t touch himself yet though, patience. He pinched his nipple and his hips jerked up, thrusting into thin air.

He flicked through more memories - the half-elf in his ass, the human fucking into Molly’s mouth. In time with his memory, he lifted his tail and used it to slap himself, hard, on the thigh. He moaned aloud, let himself touch his dick, lightly, lightly. Teasing.

Done with last night, he brought up memories and fantasy at random, as they served him. This mouth on his ass, that hand in his hair, imaginary and real people together doing wonderful, terrible things to his body as he let his grip get harder, his thumb spread his own wet precum around.

Then, things changed. The faces changed, the bodies transformed. He was still here, he was still fucking in his head, but everything he saw was Caleb. His hands were tangled in ginger hair. A dirty, freckled face was gasping swearwords into his neck. Caleb was tied up in front of him, hard and so turned on he was almost in tears. Caleb was forcing Molly’s head down onto a bed and pounding into him from behind. Caleb was calling him a beautiful slut - oh - Caleb was calling him sir, Caleb was begging, making Molly beg, Caleb was arching back in Molly’s imagination and coming hard and gorgeous and then Molly was coming too, in reality, with his hand hard on his dick and Caleb’s face in a thousand lewd pictures in his mind’s eye.

When he was done he slumped back on the bed, chest and stomach wet with his own spend, long hair tangled behind his head.

“Shit,” he said, and meant it.

With a shaking hand, he grabbed a cloth and cleaned himself up. That had been one hell of an orgasm, but he didn’t have the blissful blank mind that normally followed. Just more confusion, more questions.

“He’s a skinny ginger who hasn’t washed in forever and who isn’t interested, Molly,” he told himself in a fierce voice. “Get your shit together. You could walk downstairs right now and grab someone willing. Stop fixating on the one person who doesn’t want to see you naked.”

He sat in silence for a moment, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest. He didn’t feel any better.

“I just need to sleep,” he said. Surely, surely, a good night’s sleep would fix him.

It took him a long time to drift off and when he did his dreams were confused, fragmentary, disturbing.

When he woke, it was with a strange yearning feeling, something he couldn’t place. Like he’d lost something and only just realised, or like he wanted something he didn’t know the name for.

Molly sighed, wiped the sleep crust from his eyes, and prettied himself up in the tiny piece of polished brass that passed for a mirror in this establishment. He’d do, to a careless eye, but to his own he looked exhausted and drained.

He’d told the crew they’d have a full week in port, give it enough time to restock the ship with food and necessaries. He was starting to wonder if that could be hurried up. Maybe he was just missing the open water, the smell of the sea air, the fierce joy of piracy and battle and blood.

He ought to head to dock, oversee things, do the boring-but-practical side of Captaining. He trusted Yasha with every bit of his heart and soul, but it was always good to show his face.

Feeling oddly heavy he left the room, locking it up behind him and headed downstairs. He didn’t want breakfast here, you only had to make that mistake once. He was halfway to the door when Caleb walked in.

Oh.

The light came in behind him, dirty light from a dirty town, but it lit his hair up copper and gold and red and Caleb was looking right at him and smiling, a tiny bit. The exhaustion that had hit Molly this morning was all but gone.

Molly smiled back, wider and more genuine than he meant to, which of course was when Nott clambered up onto a table next to him and scared three years off his life span by gleefully hissing at him.

“Fucking - shit - Nott!”

“Caleb found a cat!”

“A - what?”

“Caleb found a cat and you are going to let him keep it!”

Molly looked at Caleb, all bewildered confusion, and finally registered what Caleb was holding in his arms. A skinny looking tabby cat with big, sea-green eyes.

“Uh?” Molly managed.

“Nott. We agreed I would ask. We are crew, we cannot demand.”

“That’s a cat.” Oh, well done, Molly, very clever, his internal voice told him.

“Most ships have a cat? Yours doesn’t. He will keep the rats down.”

“I - uh. You want to keep the cat?”

“Yes,” Caleb said. “If you permit it. It’s your ship, you are the Captain.”

Molly had a sudden memory of Caleb’s imaginary voice calling him ‘sir’ during last night’s fantasising. Gods he was lucky that humans couldn’t usually tell when Tieflings were blushing.

He pulled himself up into what he privately thought of his Captain posture. He hoped he looked more together than he felt.

“A cat is useful, keep it by all means. But I’m holding you to its good behaviour, Mr Widogast.”

There. Saved it.

Caleb smiled down at the cat. His face was tender, soft, and Molly had never seen him look so relaxed. He’d have let the man have a thousand cats for that look.

“I will call him Frumpkin,” Caleb said.

“Of course you will,” Molly said.

“Thank you, Captain Mollymauk. I look forward - “ Caleb abruptly cut off. “Where has Nott gone?”

There was a crash from the kitchens. Caleb closed his eyes tight.

“Uh oh,” Molly said. “Shall we fix this with my trademark charm?”

Charm would absolutely be needed, since on poking his head into the (filthy) kitchen, Molly saw a lot of scattered food and one goblin hissing at the furious looking landlady/cook, Justina She was an attractive woman somewhere near her mid life, with dark brown skin and black hair. He knew her reasonably well, he thought, and knew her to have a temper, though he’d never seen her throwing forks at one of his crew before.

Well, maybe that one time. They’d deserved it then, too.

“Justina, my sweet,” he said. “I know this is awkward, but please don’t stab the goblin.”

“Oh, it’s one of yours, is it, Molly?”

“She is, yes. A new crewmember who has yet to learn that we don’t annoy the marvellous Justina.”

“I was just hungry! I just wanted something to eat!”

“Nott, you should have said. I would have bought you a little something. Me and Justina are old, old friends.”

“I caught her going through the storage bins! I paid good money for what she spoiled. You know how tight it can be to run this place!”

Molly sighed, and shook his head. “I’ll cover it. You know that. Justina, darling.” Behind him, Caleb made a noise, a sharp inhale through his nose. Molly ignored it, put a swing in his step as he moved towards Justina, avoiding the cutlery scattered on the floor.

Justina was visibly wavering. “Please don’t hurt any more of my crew. You know Poppy never quite recovered? You are…” he let his voice get low and sexy “A frightening and formidable woman when angry.”

“Well,” she said, and put the fork down. Molly took the chance to lift her hand to his mouth and kiss the back of it. “Alright, Molly,” Justina said. “But you’re paying double what she spoiled, and she doesn’t come in here again.”

Molly shot a sharp look at Nott and raised his eyebrows in a question.

“I won’t,” she said.

“All fixed,” he said, to everyone in the room. “Nothing terrible happened. Everything is fine.”

“You’re a flirt and a charmer, Mollymauk Tealeaf, but I like it so you’re fine. Get out of here, I don’t want to see you until tonight.”

Molly grinned, dropped some gold on the table, then blew her a kiss. He ushered Caleb and Nott out of the inn.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “She adores me. I’ll work on her and Nott will be allowed back in in no time.”

Caleb was staring down at the cat still in his arms.

“How will you do that?”

“Hm?”

“How will you - work on her, as you put it?”

Molly shrugged. “Flirt a bit, lay on the charm, tip high. The usual, I suppose?”

Caleb ran his fingers through Frumpkin’s fur. The cat purred.

“I see,” Caleb said, sounding even flatter than normal. “A good method to getting your way, I imagine. Excuse me, Captain.”

Nott grabbed onto the back of Caleb’s coat, and looked back at Molly with confused and anxious eyes.

Molly had to agree. What the fuck was that about?

Five minutes later, stomping his way to the docks in a foul mood, he remembered that cats made Fjord sick.

Shit.

 

[(there's art! look at it!)](http://bisexualpiratequeen.tumblr.com/post/173301440142/bisexualpiratequeen-illustratony-so)


	4. Chapter 4

Restocking the ship was apparently going well, with no issues. Good. Fine. If Molly had hoped to have someone to shout at, he wasn’t going to get it. Everyone was doing their jobs with skill and speed. Just marvellous. He rammed his hands into the pockets on his coat and glowered at The Pretty Peacock, sitting against the sky and sea. His real home, and normally a joy to his heart, but right now...

“Stop glaring like that, you’re going to burst something.”

“Yasha,” he said. “I am in a bad mood.”

“I think people the other side of town can tell that, Molly.”

Molly did something with his face that didn’t feel like a smile even from his perspective, and probably didn’t much look like one either, judging by the looks it got him.

“Why don’t we go rip some people off at cards, Molly, that always cheers you up.”

“Not in the mood, darling.”

“Oh. Oh wow.”

He pulled his left hand from his pocket and started drumming his claws against his thigh. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Yasha, or how to fix it. So why don’t we talk about you instead.”

“Me? Nothing to talk about it.”

“Uh huh,” Molly said. “So you weren’t mooning at Beau our entire last trip? I imagined that?”

Yasha looked at him, mismatched gaze steady, just long enough for Molly to feel mean and small as well as angry.

“Sorry,” he said.

“I’m not letting you cut my heart open just because something is going on in your head.”

“No,” he said. “Quite right.”

He reached out for her hand. Gripped it tight and tender as apology. She squeezed back.

“You done being a shit?”

“Probably not,” he said, with a laugh. “But I am interested. Not just to distract myself. But because I love you.”

Yasha hummed under her breath.

“I’m not sure,” she said eventually. “It’s difficult.”

“How difficult can it be? Ask her. If she says yes, go for it, if she says no - find someone else. Plenty of women into you.”

“Because I want more than a night. Or even a week.”

Molly frowned. “Alright?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her, Molly.”

Molly was confused. “Well, yes. She’s crew. We love our crew. I love you, Fjord, Jester…”

But Yasha was shaking her head. “I said in love.”

Oh. “Oh.”

Yasha nodded. Molly sighed.

“Can’t help you there. Never been in love.”

Yasha squeezed his hand again. “I’m scared,” she said. “I’m scared she doesn’t want me the same way.”

“Well, my reading suggests the right thing to do is to sacrifice yourself dramatically and tell her on your deathbed. Doesn’t seem like either of you would get much out of that though, if I’m honest.”

Yasha laughed. Molly headbutted her arm affectionately.

“Is it worth the risk to find out?” Yasha looked down at him. “I only mean - what if she does feel the same? You’d be wasting so much time. Our lives are dangerous, Yasha, and I want to see you happy.”

Yasha looked over to where Beau was… apparently squatting like a frog on top of some crates of hardtack, talking to Fjord.

“I don’t get it, personally,” Molly told Yasha.

“Oh, you love her like a little sister.”

“I will deny that til my dying breath.” He reached up to cradle Yasha’s face in his hand. “You’re my girl. My first mate, my dearest friend. Do what seems right to you and I will be right behind you, every step of the way.”

Yasha patted his hand. “Same to you,”

“Oh, I’m having a fine time. Lovers in every port, plenty of money - “ he offered up a false smile. “Everything is just marvellous in my life right now. What more could I want?”

“Hm,” Yasha said. “If you say so.”

Yasha smacked him on the back hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

“Gods,” he said, wheezing. “Hey, Yash,” as if he’d just thought of it. “Did Caleb tell you where he was staying? Got a few things to work out with him. Let him know how things work on our ship.”

Yasha gave him a capital-l Look, but must have seen… something in his face because she relented.

“He’s staying in the bunkhouse.”

“What, the five copper a night beds?”

“I don’t think he has much money, Molly.”

“Well, he should have said!” It felt a lot better being righteously angry than inexplicably and miserably so. “I would have got him somewhere better to sleep. He’ll be lucky not to be stabbed in his bed.”

Yasha raised her eyebrows, but what did she know.

“It’s his money. His risk.”

“It is a matter of pride to me that none of my crew have to sleep in places like that,” Molly said through gritted teeth.

“I’m sure that’s exactly why he’s doing it. To upset your fragile pride.”

Molly felt - stung. A quick jab to the tender parts of him from someone he loved and trusted. He looked up into Yasha’s still and placid face with wide eyes. Her mouth was narrow, lips pressed tight together.

“Gods,” he said. “I’m still being an asshole, aren’t I.”

“Little bit.”

“No, a lot. I’ll leave you to it. No need to inflict myself on anyone else in this mood.”

Yasha snorted. “Go get laid or something. You’re always much nicer when you do.”

He raised a hand to Yasha and headed off, leaving her to do her important job without his sniping and prickly snapping to distract her. He was useless right now, to himself and everyone else and while he normally enjoyed being terrible, he liked to be the fun kind. This vicious petty snarl in his chest was - not unfamiliar, if he was honest, but - unwelcome. Not him. It always felt as if it came from something that wasn’t Molly.

Yasha had told him to get laid. That was… certainly a thought. Sex was fun, he liked it, and he was pretty good at making other people like it with him. He’d found in a good mood lifter at various points in his life, an excellent distraction at others, and at all times just a great way to spend a few hours.

Even in this particular port, full of pirates and smugglers and other criminal sorts, lunchtime wasn’t an ideal time to find a partner unless he wanted to pay for one, but hey. He was Mollymauk Tealeaf. It shouldn’t be too difficult.

Of course, that relied on him finding someone he wanted to have sex with. He spent hours at various… places… full of attractive and often-eager souls. Pickings were slimmer this time of day, but there were still people he’d normally be happy to go to bed with. But none of them were doing anything for him right now. Not the tall, muscular hulk of a man who’d do so well at holding him down and making him take it, not the slim doe-eyed person who all the same looked like they’d have a wicked hand with a whip. Not one of them.

He was back at Justinas, working on her about Nott, as he’d promised, when he was approached by a tall young half-orc with stars in their eyes and a green blush on their cheeks.

“Excuse me, aren’t you Captain Mollymauk?” 

“That I am, gorgeous,” he said back. He smiled, all wicked. They were a very attractive soul indeed. He waited for the familiar quirk of interest, the burn of wild impulsive lust.

Nothing. Or - not nothing. The attraction was there, the interest, but the urge to do anything about either was absent.

The half orc put their hand on his arm. “I was wondering if you’d come to bed - “ they said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, genuinely regretful (and confused). “You’re very attractive. But not today.”

“Oh,” they said. The light in their eyes dimmed.

“It’s not you, It’s me. I think - I think I might be ill. I don’t want to give it to anyone.”

Being ill was the only explanation he could come up with. This - not wanting to fuck someone he was attracted to - that had never happened, in all the years of his life he could remember.

He ended up going to bed early, to sleep off this no-doubt truly horrible sickness.

The next morning he tracked down Jester. She always stayed in much nicer places than he did in port, and she was having a rather excessive breakfast of pastries and hot spiced chocolate in the breakfast room of her hotel when he found her.

She listened to him as he explained the problem - or as much of the problem as he wanted to. No need mentioning the Caleb fantasising, or the way Molly kept thinking of the light sparking copper and gold in Caleb’s red hair.

“Molly,” she said, around a mouthful of pastry. “You aren’t sick.”

“I must be,” he said. “This all feels terribly wrong.”

Jester brushed crumbs off her chest, which made her breasts jiggle in a way he’d have enjoyed just a week ago.

“See,” he said. “Even that didn’t do anything for me.”

“I could take you upstairs now? You know you like fucking my tits a lot.”

“No thank you, Jester,” he said, instantly.

“Wow,” she said. “Maybe you are dying.”

Molly blinked “Is it that serious? What do I do?”

Jester laughed at him. “I’m not being serious, silly boy. It’s a phase. People do that, you know. They -” she wobbled her hand in the air. “Fluctuate. Wobble. If it’s not happened before -”

“Not that I remember,” Molly said. 

“Maybe you’re overdue a bit of a rest. Maybe you have fucked yourself out.”

“Huh,” Molly said.

“You’re just overreacting because you are such a slutty drama queen,” Jester told him, with an affectionate smile on her face. “It’ll come back and you’ll be through half of a town before you know it.”

“Honestly, It’s just strange. It’s not that I’ve stopped noticing people I’d be interested in screwing, it’s just I think about it and they don’t -”

Jester tilted her head.

“They don’t feel like what I WANT to be doing?” Molly cringed.

“Veeeerry interesting,” Jester said. “Maybe you’re seeking variety. A rest would be the right fix for that, too.”

“So just… wait and rest?”

Jester twisted a blue curl around her finger. “For some things it is the best cure.”

Molly leaned back in his chair. “It isn’t something I’ve really done before,” he said. “Which makes it very interesting.”

Jester nodded, enthusiastic. “I am always right,” she said, and then got a worrying look on her pretty round face.

“What?” Molly asked, immediately a little panic-struck.

“Nothing,” Jester sing-songed, which wasn’t very reassuring. “Just a thought. I’ll have to wait and see, though.”

“Wait and see what, Jester.” She got up from the table, cackling, leaving Molly there. “Wait and see what!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> would you look at that, something resembling a plot turns up in chapter five.

Time… moved. Despite his unsettled feelings, Molly found that the end of their brief restocking stop-over was here sooner rather than later, then it was time to get everyone back on board and the ship on the waves again. Privately, he was certain that he’d feel better out there, under the open sky, surrounded by the smell of the sea - and several sailors with limited access to clean washing water. That bit would be less romantic, no doubt, but you got used to it in time.

He felt oddly tense as everyone trickled on board over the hours before the tide, but then he saw Caleb, his red, messy curls in an untidy ponytail, holding a basket full of cat in one hand and Nott’s little hand in the other and all the tension went out of him in a rush, replaced by something bright and tender and buoyant.

Molly’s feet went towards Caleb without any input from Molly himself, and he followed because it felt right. 

Caleb looked tired, but better than he had when they’d picked him up. The bruising had all faded away under the dirt and dust. His face had lost a little of the tight, wary expression. Not enough, Molly mourned, not nearly enough.

Well, they’d be at sea months maybe. Time enough to put weight on Caleb’s bones, smooth out the fear and pain on his features, direct his sharp edges towards enemies and the untrustworthy, not inwards on himself.

“Caleb,” Molly said when he got near, and Caleb started and looked up. Molly made eye contact with him, and his confident stride stuttered and stopped. Caleb’s eyes were so blue. Molly’s heart was beating so he could feel it in the hollow of his throat.

“I,” Molly said. “I’m glad you’re sticking with us!”

“Where else could I go?” Caleb asked him.

Well, ouch.

Caleb broke the eye contact, looking down at the deck under his feet like it might hold incredible secrets. “What I mean to say is you kindly offered Nott and I employment and a place to stay and food to eat and I -”

“No,” Molly said, keeping his smile big and bright, “I completely understand. I get it. Not your first choice of career, Piracy.” He laughed.

“No,” Caleb said and he looked sad again, for fucks sake the whole point was to make him not sad. “But it is the best choice I have now.”

“It’s going to be fine, Caleb” Nott said. “We’re going to be so good at this and get so rich and then we can get you everything you need.”

Molly reached out to touch his arm, and thought better of it, let his hand drop to his own leg. “Exactly,” he said. “Give it a chance, both of you, it might surprise you. I found I was rather made for it.” 

“Why did you become a pirate, exactly, Molly?” Nott asked, and wow, she was sharp under those big golden eyes.

“Oh,” he said, waving a hand in the air. He caught Caleb watching it.”Someone told me it was all rum, sodomy and the lash and I thought ‘yes please’.” He cracked his tail on the deck on saying ‘the lash’ as it was part of the whole thing. 

“Ow, Caleb, you’re squeezing my hand too tight.”

“Sorry, Liebchen,” Caleb said.

“That can’t be all, though, Captain?”

“Can’t it? Oh, well. Will you look at that. Captain things to do. Settle in well, you two!”

Nott was still shouting questions at him, and his heart was pounding and he didn’t understand, he didn’t understand a single thing that was happening to him, only that seeing Caleb smile made him feel like the whole world was shining bright and clean like sunlight after fresh rain, and that seeing Caleb sad made him sad, made him desperate to fix it. So he ignored her, and Caleb, because he wouldn’t be able to keep up the careless smile and dangerously sexy pirate thing with all of that going on at once.

He’d made a career out of his particular brand of charming-but-risky, made a name from his easy-yet-wicked smile, had built notoriety from his cheerfully sluttish nature combined with his ability to fight multiple enemies to a standstill. He’d seduced people sent to capture him, killed some others, got himself to the point that most ships just gave up and let him on board to steal and leave his mark and sometimes those Captains looked him up in port later. He’d had a damn good few years as Captain, and more before them as just another pirate, and he wasn’t going to lose his shit over whatever this was.

Molly closed his eyes and breathed in deep through his nose. It was going to be just fine. It was going to be great, in fact, like it always was. Caleb would be crew, loved and protected for that, and one of the crew who didn’t want to screw him which wasn’t a concern of his and wasn’t going to upset him, even a little bit.

Because Molly was taking a break from sex.

Though, it was possible, Molly supposed, that Caleb could come round to the idea. That if Molly stayed Molly - flirting, seductive, excessive - that Caleb would realise just how good a few nights could be.

Molly resolutely ignored the quiet protest in his heart, the one that said a few nights would never be enough. Not with Caleb.

There were other things to worry about.

Like Fjord rocking up, almost late, beat almost bloody. His eye was blackened and bloodshot, his nose broken. Jester was fluttering around him like a chubby, enraged moth.

“Who,” Molly asked, almost snarling.

“Fox’s men,” Fjord mumbled through his badly-bruised, possibly broken jaw. “You should see the other guys, Molly.”

“Fox,” Molly said, like it was a swearword. “I will sort this fucking feud out one way or another.”

“They was just trying to keep me from getting here afore tide. Unlucky for them I guess.”

“Be quiet, Fjord!” Jester snapped. “Unless you don’t want me to fix your jaw?”

“I’ve been leaving it,” Molly said. “He tries to hound us out of the good zones, we scare him off but don’t escalate. He poisons new crew against us, we don’t retaliate. But this - no-one hurts my people.”

“I’m not arguing with you,” Fjord said. “They were real unkind with their boots.”

“They could have killed you.”

“Don’t say that,”Jester said. “Because they didn’t kill him and he will be fine now, almost definitely.” Jester patted Fjord on the shoulder.

“I’m worried,” Molly said. “We’ve all got people in town. Perhaps we should… stay, until things are fixed.”

“Captain, don’t. You know he’ll just follow The Peacock when we leave, hound us out there on the seas.”

Molly tilted his head back to look at the sky. “You’re right. Everyone, stop flapping around and lets get this ship on the move. But trust me, Fox and his crew raise a hand to any of mine again, and I’ll let them hurt before they die.”

When he turned around he was startled to see Caleb standing a short distance behind him, watching him with a tilted head and curious eyes. 

“Back to work, crewman Widogast. And the rest of you lousy lot too!” 

Time to go, time to be out, time to be at sea, time to be doing what he was made for.

Chaos, and movement, and everyone in their places getting the ship afloat with the tide. An almighty creaking of rope and flapping of sail, his crews shouts on the air and then they were moving, slow at first and faster later, as port with the sounds and smells of it dropped away, replaced by the sea at the hull and the seabirds whirling and crying above them, and here, here. Molly at the centre, Molly guiding, Molly in the heart of where he was best. He threw his arms wide, let his coat and shirt billow open, threw his head back, and laughed.

Later there would be difficulties - keeping the crew entertained and away from each others throats after weeks or months at sea, worrying about food and water, storms and the navy and enemy pirates, the risk of being becalmed, the danger of not getting lucky with a good score, but none of it mattered right now. Even Fox and his crew and what they might do was put aside for a moment.

He was Mollymauk Tealeaf, and he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos feed the fic machine. 
> 
> Please don't ask me to explain how any of this boat works, I don't know or care.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing pining instead of my final OU assignment for this module?
> 
> Never.

Caleb was always there. Obviously, The Pretty Peacock wasn’t a large ship. Molly had never been so aware of someone else’s existence before, though. It nagged at him, a splinter in the flesh, a split in his lip that his tongue always found. Like that, like his tongue seeking out that dilute salt taste of his own wounded body, his eyes found Caleb.

He was quite glad to be getting a distraction, really.

Shame it was Fjord being angry with him. Though the swollen eyes and sneezing was cute.

“You brought a cat on board,” he said. Beau was standing behind him, her arms crossed.

“We - we have a rat problem, Fjord,” Molly said. 

“We sure do,” Beau said, “and it wears shirts that flash its nipples at everyone.”

“We have,” he said again, emphasising “A rat problem. And a lot of food on board. I’m sorry, Fjord, sometimes I have to make hard decisions, and I’m not risking starvation because you get sneezy over cats.”

He thought he probably looked and sounded quite noble and Captainish. Beau ruined it by snorting. Snort number 8, sarcastic and disbelieving.

“It was never an issue before,” Beau said. Molly ignored her.

“Besides,” Molly said. “I didn’t bring it on board. I agreed, but it was Caleb’s idea.”

Beau and Fjord shared a wordless look. What?

“Captain, it slept on my shirt. I’m covered in fur. I can’t breathe. Just because you’re -” he cut off with a grunt at Beau’s pointy elbow meeting his ribs.

Molly sighed. This was his fuckup, he should fix it, but he couldn’t get rid of Caleb’s cat. He loved that little thing.

“Stop sleeping shirtless, then.”

Aha. An idea. “You know, if you want rid of that cat, you’ll have to tell Caleb. And Nott. Even Jester, she really likes it.” Jester was an inspired idea. He’d not met the living soul that could say no when she pulled the right face. “You’ll have to tell them yourself, face to face, one at a time.” 

Fjord went a paler shade of green. 

“And even if they all agree, I suspect they’d not be alright with just… dropping the little sweetheart over the side.”

“Of course not!” Fjord said. “I’d not let Frumpkin drown!”

Molly shrugged with his arms out wide. “Since you insist. Maybe you can get Caleb to keep it away from your things, or get some medicine from Jester. But for now - the cat is part of the crew.”

Beau and Fjord were looking at him. They still didn’t look very happy about this. But he was bringing them round, he could tell.

“Tell you what, since I’m such a giving and generous Captain, and not at all like some I could name, Fjord can have a small share uplift as long as the cat stays on board.”

Fjord twisted his mouth up and wiped the back of his hand across his nose.

“Yeah, seems fair,” he conceded at last. Molly threw an arm around his neck. And another round Beau, who strained against his grip with an expression of comically exaggerated horror.

“Just remember how good you two have it,” he said, with a cheerful song in his voice and heart. Oh how he loved fixing problems in his favour.

(His favour? Caleb’s wasn’t it? But seeing Caleb happy and soft made him feel the same way, so his favour too, he supposed.)

“Now, leave me to my work.”

“Work? You were mooning into the horizon,” Beau said.

“A Captain needs to have his mind on the future, which may sometimes look like mooning to the uneducated and unaware.”

Beau stuck her middle finger up at him as both she and Fjord walked away. As they left him he heard a snatch of a sentence from Beau - 

“Can you believe he -” 

Before it was lost, and ultimately, it probably didn’t matter. Beau could talk shit about him for days, but she’d go back to back with him when it counted. He knew, because she had.

Molly pulled at one of his long curls. Beau was right about one thing, though, he had been rather lost in his thoughts.

Just yesterday, at evening meal, people had been talking and laughing, some a little tipsy, giddy over nothing. Dusk was falling, the first bright stars barely a shimmer in the sky, the endless horizon fading from a dark blue to a fierce red and Caleb had been there, and at one point Nott had tugged on his sleeve and he’d passed her a piece of cheese without question and the small smile on his face had been devastating. He had been gilded by sunset at the lines of his cheekbones and nose, his eyes had been softly crinkled at the corners and Molly had completely lost his train of thought, found himself feeling hot in his cheeks and painfully hard.

It had been concerning him for a day and a half now.

He’d never once been the sort of person to get hard over a completely non sexual smile. He lifted a thumb to his mouth, chewing on a claw. His tail flickered in confusing patterns behind him.

Perhaps - perhaps he should just talk to Caleb? That’s all. Just talk. Just be there, near him. Just -

He was being weird. Caleb - Widogast, distance, better - was a crewmember of HIS ship, talking to him was fine and normal. Ordinary. He could… ask Caleb if he was alright taking Crows Nest duty, maybe, not a lot of people liked it, and Molly didn’t want to waste his wizard on tying and tarring ropes. Those wonderful fingers deserved better.

There. He had a reason. Perfectly fine. Perfectly good. 

He kept flicking his tail against his leg, tap tap tap.

Gods, for how small the ship was it was difficult to find anyone on it, especially times like now when people were running around, doing… things. Those that weren’t working right at the moment were resting where they could, or flirting, or -

He grabbed one of is crew, Poppy, the one that Justina had terrifed. She was a halfling with red hair and a foul mouth.

“Seen Caleb?”

“He got something nasty splashed on his shirt, went off to the bunks.”

Molly nodded, dismissed Poppy with a wave of his hand, and heading in the bunks. Which were empty, aside from Caleb who was-

Shirtless, with his back to Molly, scrubbing his filthy shirt in a bucket of salt water, swearing softly under his breath in Zemnian.

He was very pale under his clothes, Molly noted absently, very pale and too thin, but the thing that really stuck out were the scars. Molly knew what burn scars looked like, and Caleb’s back and arms were heavily burn scarred. It might have made him ugly, to some eyes, but not to Molly’s.

Molly must have made some kind of noise, because Caleb whipped around, face panicked. His gaze locked onto Molly, and his face… it got very still, but his eyes were huge and round. Molly stepped back with his hands in the air and closed his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said.

He could hear Caleb breathing, ragged and distressed. It wrenched at him. He did the only thing he could think of to do.

“Hey, I show you my one and only bullet scar? Ran into someone with a gun, can you believe, shot me right through the thigh. Of course, I’ll have to strip to show you…”

There was an aching pause before he heard a huff of air that might just have been laughter.

“Why don’t I take off my shirt too, so we’re even. We can compare.”

“You barely wear a shirt.” Caleb’s voice was shaking, but he sounded less terrible.

“Ah, so you can see them all already. Every single scar a reminder I survived it,” Molly said. “Few on my back. Some people are cowards.”

“Is it really so awful you must keep your eyes closed?” and he sounded so very sad and wretched and hopeless.

“No,” Molly said, in a rare moment of complete honesty. “I didn’t know if you wanted me looking.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s fine is not the same thing as yes,” Molly said.

Caleb did actually laugh a little at this, a surprised and bitter sound that Molly hated.

“Then yes.”

Molly opened his eyes. 

Caleb was standing above his water bucket, hunched over with his arms wrapped around himself. His torso was worse than his back. A lot of the scars still looked red and shiny, poorly healed.

“Do they hurt you?”

Caleb looked at a hammock that someone had failed to stow away. “Sometimes,” he said.

“Jester has a good cream for scars. Helps them heal, reduces the pain. She’ll give you it, no questions asked.”

“Don’t waste these things on me.”

“It wouldn’t be a waste,” Molly said. He stepped closer. “You matter. You -” he wanted to kiss the defeat off Calebs face. He wanted to kiss every healed scar and soothe every one that still burned and ached. “You’re crew.” he finished weakly.

Caleb looked at him, at Molly’s chest with the scars and the tattoos and the piercings. He looked at Molly’s face and horns and the jewellery dangling there. Molly shifted under the scrutiny. It felt so intimate, like Caleb was really seeing him.

“Ah,” Caleb said. “But you look good with scars. I am just-”

Molly lurched forward, fastened his hand around Caleb’s arm. Caleb started but didn’t pull away. They were so close now, faces a hand span apart. Molly was seeing Caleb in close detail, the shine on his lips where he’d licked them, the pink under the spattered freckles, the soft lines at the corners of his eyes. A ginger curl had come loose and fell over his face; Molly wanted to tuck it back into place.

“Listen to me,” Molly said, fierce. “I’m not going to ask what happened. That’s yours. But it looks like it could have killed you. It didn’t. You’re here, on this ship. You’re alive, Caleb Widogast, and that means something. Fuck ‘just’, you’re amazing.”

Caleb was looking at him, really looking. His skin was cool under Molly’s hot hand.

“You barely know me,”

“I know enough. I know that Nott adores you. I know you’re gentle to those smaller and weaker than you. I know you are quiet and thoughtful. And I can tell you hate yourself and don’t deserve to.”

Molly winced. “Sorry,” he said. “Too far.” He dropped Caleb’s arm from his grip. His hand wanted that skin, flesh under it again. His mind fed him a hopeful mental image of touching Caleb all over every bit of skin he could reach.

Caleb was still looking at him. He seemed… stunned. 

“Tell me I didn’t break you?” Molly said, weakly.

“No,” Caleb said. “No, Mollymauk. I - thank you. I wanted - I want -”

“I had a reason for being here,” Molly said in a rush.

“O-oh?”

“I wanted to ask about if you would like any specific duties? We try to match people with -” Molly was gabbling, talking fast to cover up all the authentic things that had come spilling out of his mouth without permission, almost shaking with the need to be in control again.

“Of course,” said Caleb.

“I mean it. Don’t be scared to see Jester, or ask for something to do, or - you matter. You can’t work if you’re in pain all the time, and I don’t like my crew suffering without need and I -”

Molly clamped his mouth shut with great difficulty.

They stared at each other in an awkward silence.

“I have to finish washing my shirt,” Caleb said.

“Yes, of course,” Molly said, almost with relief, and fled.

He stumbled back to his own cabin, heart pounding. What was this? What had happened to him? He’d seen countless men without their shirts on, he’d seen worse scars and injuries, but here he was, overcome by combined protective rage and sheer want.

He wanted to find who’d hurt Caleb, put that bitterness in his voice, and kill them. He wanted to touch Caleb until he was crying and begging, He wanted to make Caleb happy, not just for a night, or a week, or even a month.

He shoved through his door, not looking where he was going and collapsed backwards on his bed.

“Fuck,” he said.

He realised, almost as an afterthought, that he was hard. With no finesse at all he wrenched his tight trousers open and took a rough hand to his erection. He worked it viciously, trying not to think of anything, and failing, failing. Because Caleb was there in his head, and as soon as he remembered Caleb’s spit-slick pink lips, Molly came with a shudder and a groan of Caleb’s name.

No. Oh, no. This was bad. He was in so much trouble


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they TALK A LOT

From that moment on, Molly made it his business to learn Caleb Widogast better than he knew anything else.

Well, they’d not lucked out on a target yet; what else did he have to do? There were only so many times a man could plan things out with maps and star charts.

Step one; conversation.

This was tricky; Caleb was naturally quiet and reserved, and it was worsened by the way Caleb seemed to lose his words almost at random. Molly might have minded; but he found it endearing.

One evening Molly found him standing at the side, looking up at the moon and stars.

“Aren’t they lovely?”

Caleb jumped, but less than he would have a few weeks ago. Molly considered that progress.

“Mollymauk,” he said. His voice was soft. “They are so bright out here. They seem closer, somehow.”

“You’re right. Sometimes I forget to look. I shouldn’t.”

Molly sighed and rested his back against the side, leaning his head back to look up. His jewellery made a soft, musical noise as he moved.

“I haven’t had many chances to rest and look at beautiful things.” 

“That’s a shame. The world is full of beauty, if you’re looking for it. Beauty and joy and excitement and...” Molly trailed off, laughing a little. “Not the time for my personal life philosophy.”

“I like -” Caleb stopped, made a frustrated noise. “Please, forgive me, Mollymauk. I struggle to say what I mean a great deal of the time.”

“Take your time. I want to hear you speak.”

“Oh, so you can manage silence and patience?”

Molly turned his head to look at Caleb. He was shadowed, barely lit up by the moon and the lanterns on board, and so beautiful.

“I have never been silent and patient in my life.”

“You are patient with me. What I was trying to say is - I like when you talk like this. When you… when you are open. Is that the word?”

Molly smiled, a little shaky. It was so easy to say things under the moon, things that might be too revealing, things that might be uncomfortable or painful, things that might scare Caleb away.

“Open,” he said, instead. “I suppose that works well enough.”

Caleb moved, and his hand was very near Molly’s on the rail. Molly could smell him, and gods help him, if he could find the smell of a man three weeks into a sea journey heart-stoppingly wonderful.

“You confuse me,” Caleb said.

“Then all is well. I love confusing people.”

Caleb - actually laughed. “I can tell,” he said. 

“I like how I am”, Molly said. “No matter what anyone else thinks. I like it. I like myself.”

“Good,” Caleb said. “That’s - that’s good.”

Caleb was silent for a long while, before finally he sighed and moved his hand away from where it rested beside Molly’s. The shock of disappointment at the loss was astonishing. Molly viciously suppressed the whining noise he wanted to make.

“Nott worries,” Caleb said. “About me.”

“She likes being aboard though, right? I’ve seen her in the rigging, it’s terrifying.”

“She is enjoying it more than either of us expected, that is true.”

“So she doesn’t want you two to leave?” Molly knew that if Nott wanted it, Caleb would be leaving at the next chance. The thought was awful.

Caleb shook his head. “No,” he said. “We agree this is the best place for us.”

“I - I’m glad. Having you on board is -”

“Useful?”

Molly paused. This seemed important. Caleb was looking away from him again.

“Yes,” Molly said. “But also a genuine pleasure.”

“You do not just keep me here for my abilities? I am not just a tool to you?”

“People aren’t tools,” Molly said with disgust dripping from his mouth. “I don’t hire people who can’t do something handy, but they’re people. Employees. Crew. Not a tool. Where is this coming from, Caleb? Has someone said something? If anyone on board has made you feel this way, I’ll -”

“No-one aboard this ship has treated me as anything other than a peer and someone worthy of decency and respect.”

“Good, that’s how it should be.”

Caleb sighed. “I have talked too much.”

Molly smiled. “If by ‘too much’ you mean ‘more than five words every three hours’ I suppose you might be right.”

A silence. “You are teasing me,” Caleb said.

“A little. Is that alright?”

“Hmm. Yes. But - don’t be cruel?”

Molly’s heart twisted in his chest. “Never, Caleb,” he said. “And if I am by accident, tell me. I’ll stop.”

Caleb breathed in, sharp, shaky. There was nothing else for Molly but this, Caleb breathing close to him, the air fresh around them.

“Caleb?” A small, high voice. Nott.

Molly didn’t sigh, or groan, but it was a near thing. “He’s here, Nott,” he said.

“I know, I can see him. I can see in the dark.”

“Of course you can.”

“I am fine, Nott,” Caleb said. “I was only enjoying a conversation.”

“Oh,” Nott said. “That’s good! It’s only - You hadn’t come to bed yet and I started to worry that you might have fallen over the side and no-one had known and Frumpkin has got into your bag and I think he’s peed on your coat.”

Molly twined his own tail through his fingers. “You had better deal with all that. It sounds very important.”

“Of course, cap - Mollymauk.”

“You want to talk - about anything at all, please, feel free. As long as we’re not actively fighting a sea monster or something, I suppose.”

“I will.”

It was physically hard to walk away from Caleb when everything in Molly’s body was telling him to pull Caleb close and kiss him, not let him go until they were naked in bed together. But he did it.

He was beginning to piece together the edges of something, and he didn’t much like the shape of it. Caleb expected cruelty, mistreatment, his personhood to be ignored. Whatever had happened to him had hurt him, badly.

-

Molly learned a little bit of how badly the following night. Caleb had looked haunted and had been easily distracted all day, finally resulting in Kir’lat shouting right in his face. Kir’lat had a temper, but normally kept control of it. Molly was already moving to intercede by the time Kir’lat calmed down and offered what looked like a brusque but genuine apology and it should have been nothing. One of the things that happens on ship sometimes, tempers rising and falling, doing no harm.

Caleb’s face had been wrong though, throughout the shouting and the apology. An absent, glazed over kind of panic. Molly had seen it before, on the faces of people who’d just been reminded of something terrible. He came out of it soon enough, but still. It worried Molly

And it just kept on worrying Molly, lingering in his thoughts. Who hurt Caleb? Who made him afraid? Could Molly fix it, get revenge, protect him?

He went to bed still thinking of it - circling round on it, gnawing at it til it was rags and he was full of it.

He had been asleep - dreaming of Caleb tied to the mast of an Empire ship, on fire. He had been telling Molly to save the water for other people, even as his hair caught. It wasn’t a pleasant dream and it clung to him even when he woke up.

He was glad to leave it behind, though not looking forward to whatever was making someone knock on his door at this hour of… night? He pulled on his trousers in case it was Yasha. She’d complained about seeing his dick more often than he did.

“Alright,” he mumbled at the door, and pulled it open.

Caleb was standing there, and he couldn’t stop his damned mouth from running away with him.

“Well,I knew you’d fall for my infamous charm eventually.”

“I - what? No, you said I could -”

Molly’s eyes had adjusted enough to see the exhaustion in Caleb’s body, the haunted emptiness that was his eyes.

“I - this was stupid. You are the Captain, I should not -”

“Caleb, it’s alright,”Molly said. “Come in and tell me what’s wrong.”

Caleb looked over Molly’s shoulder seeing - what? Probably Molly’s cluttered and multicoloured cabin, his disheveled bed piled with cushions.

Caleb shook his head. “Outside,” he said. He was breathing hard and fast, breaths gulping in his throat.

“Are you well? Do you need Jester?”

“No - not sick, just -”

Molly took Caleb’s hand in his and led him away from the open bedroom door, to somewhere open and fresh.

“Hey. Hey. Could you do something for me? It’s alright. You’re safe. Breath in for five. Good boy. Hold for two. Breathe out for seven. Don’t talk, just keep doing that, darling.”

Molly carefully moved, slowly where Caleb could see him, until he was stroking Caleb’s back. “Is this alright?”

Caleb nodded.

“Good, keep breathing like I told you. Something that’s worked for me for this is to imagine the fear as a colour, a colour with a texture to it, and imagine it falling out of my body with the outbreath. Something else, soothing and lovely, coming in on the inbreath.”

Slowly, Caleb’s breaths evened out, his back stopped trembling under Molly’s hand.

“You - this happens for you, too?” 

“Oh yes. Less now than it used to. “

“I thought I was just broken. A broken coward.” He sounded so tired.

“Well,” Molly said, trying not to let his voice show how sad that made him, “that is clearly bullshit.”

Caleb sucked in a ragged breath. “You don’t know. You don’t know.”

“Shall I tell you a story? It’s not very pleasant, I’m afraid. The true story of Mollymauk Tealeaf, known by only a handful of living souls.”

Caleb looked at Molly, starlight reflecting from his damp eyes. “Yes,” he said, in a croak.

“There isn’t one. That simple. Not past, oh, five, six years ago?” Molly smiled at Caleb.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, I’m sure there was a person wandering around with this face, in this body, but I don’t remember a bit of them. Whatever happened to me was so terrible I forgot everything, even how to speak. My first memory is being alone, afraid, and in pain. Hell of a way to start a life.”

Caleb’s hand sneaked into his. Molly stroked his thumb across the back of it.

“A Pirate crew found me. I was badly hurt. Terribly. They thought I might die. But I didn’t, and they kept me, and I learned how to be a person all over again, from scraps. I suspect a better one than whoever I was before.”

Molly lifted a hand to Caleb’s face and turned it towards him.

“What I’m saying is no matter what it is, what you’ve done, what you’re afraid of, you can change it. You can leave it behind like - like a shell, if you want to. Make something new of yourself. This is a place you can do that. It’s a pirate ship, there’s not a person on board who doesn’t have a past they’re escaping, or living down, or trying to make up for.”

In the silence, Molly dropped his hand from Caleb’s face.

“Thank you,” Caleb said, eventually. “I still - that helped.”

“No problem at all. Was that what you needed?”

“I had a nightmare. An awful one. I didn’t want to disturb Nott and you said - I could talk. About anything.”

“I mean it too,” Molly said. “If you ever want to tell me what’s got you so knotted up on yourself, I’ll listen.If you don’t, I’ll respect that. Either way, it won’t change how I -”

Molly breathed in. “How I think about you,” he said, very clearly and carefully.

“Thank you,” Caleb said, again.

Molly, paused. He ached in his chest. Caleb’s hand was relaxed in his own. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Caleb’s forehead.

When he pulled away, Caleb was looking at him with his mouth open. Molly gave him a crooked half smile.

“You’ll find the people here willing to help, if you let them,” Molly said. “We look out for our own. And that’s you.”

Caleb tightened his hand in Molly’s, wordless, and tilted his head, bringing their mouths closer. For a heart-stopping, hope-filled moment, a tender, breathless moment, Molly though Caleb might be about to kiss him.

Caleb yawned instead, and pulled his hand from Molly’s to wrap his arms around himself. He was shivering.

Molly swore.

“Caleb, you don’t run hot like me. Bed, sleep.”

“Yes, Sir,” Caleb said with an edge of mockery. Mockery or not, that gave Molly a pleasant little shock of want.

“Don’t talk back, crewman,” Molly said. “Bed now, or -”

“Keelhauling, no doubt” Caleb said, and got up. Molly let him go, watching after him all the time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like after That Scene we need some cheering up.
> 
> Hopefully this suffices.

Because things never go easy, the good wind they had died. One day, alright, two days, less good. By day three Molly was planning entertainment for his crew to keep them from each others throats.

“We can run the play,” Molly said to Yasha. “Everyone likes the play, and it’s simple enough to get in on. We can have Beau be the judge, she’d love sentencing me to mock death.”

“Play might not be enough,” Yasha said, “Not if this goes on too long.”

“You can be such a doomsayer,” Molly said affectionately. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll get people to show off or something, pirates love showing off.”

The play was always fun. The play was really a mock trial - as promised, Molly chose Beau as the judge, a resoundingly popular choice - complete with witnesses and lawyers. It was a good time. Molly made himself the accused. His crime?

Why, piracy, of course.

He insisted they tie his wrists. For accuracy. Also, since there was no point in doing anything at all without a show, he also insisted he be dragged to the trial and manhandled.

“Don’t be afraid to make it good. And don’t panic if my shirt rips, I cut the seams to get it started..”

He started yelling as soon as they grabbed him by the upper arms.

“You fuckers! I’ll never submit. You’ll never take me alive!”

“Uh, Molly, we have taken you alive? That’s why there’s a trial?”

Molly glared at the unfortunate crewmember.

“Just work with me here.”

The crewmember looked a little confused. Oh, yes, they were newish, weren’t they.

“This is going to be marvellous. Trust your captain, and yourself. Now,” he took a deep breath and started shouting and thrashing again.

“You’ll never break me! I don’t accept the authority of this court!”

A particularly dramatic jerk of his body and his shirt tore across the shoulder seam to reveal purple skin. Nice, Molly thought. 

As his crew dragged him to where they’d set up the ‘courtroom’ he saw a flash of Caleb’s confused, frowning face and shot him a wink.

His ‘captors’ forced him to his knees on front of Beau, who grinned and stuck her tongue out at him. He stuck his out right back.

Fjord was playing the prosecution, with a worrying glint in his eye. Jester had decided to throw herself into the role of his defense with all her usual aplomb.

Fjord strode forward.

“Your honour,” he said, “I present MollyMauk Tealeaf, accused of the vilest acts of Piracy, against merchant and sailors serving the Empire. Not just piracy, oh no! This fiend of a man has stolen, murdered and seduced his way to being wanted under bounty in no fewer than twelve countries -”

“It’s fourteen!” Molly said. The crew cheered.

“Fourteen countries,” Fjord corrected, with a filthy look.

“Your honour,” Jester said. “He may be a pirate, but I think it is society has made him this way. Why, they put all those pretty things in front of him and then said he couldn’t have them! Rank injustice of the highest sort.” 

Molly raised his bound hands to the heavens. “A victim of circumstance! I had no choice!”

“I’ll be hearing from the witnesses, but it doesn’t look good for you, Tealeaf,” Beau said.

The witnesses presented their evidence. Stories of the crews successes and failures, tales of Molly’s own excesses including the time he stole the uniform fight off an Empire Captain and then used it for… lewd purposes.

“With respect, Your Honour, it looked better on me!”

“Silence, cur,” Beau shouted, really into her role.

“You should have someone backhand me,” Molly said. “It’d add drama.” No-one did it. “Come on you cowards, hit me!”

“I’m not gonna keep going with this if you make it weird,” Beau said.

Molly pouted. “It’s not weird. It’s artistic.”

Yasha was the next witness.

“I saw him, with my own two eyes, take a merchant ship just because he saw the captain in port and really liked their coat.”

Molly looked over his shoulder at his crew. Laughing and cheering, the lot of them. He looked for Caleb in the crowd, found him at the edge. A little apart from everyone, but smiling his small half smile and watching this whole mess with every evidence of enjoyment. Nott was on his shoulder, clapping. As he watched, she leaned down and said something into Caleb’s ear.

“I said, pay attention, scum!”

Oh, yes, Beau was the judge. He adopted a haughty sneer. 

“My decision is made. I declare you - innocent!”

A great cry went up, a noise of disbelief and shock.

“I see your behaviour here today and I don’t think you could possibly be a pirate.”

Molly collapsed backwards onto the floor and pressed his bound hands to his heart. 

“How could you. How could you!”

He wriggled himself back onto his knees. A game was one thing but this? Nothing less than the worst cruelty ever levied against him.

“I took on some of the Empire’s finest pirate hunters, hungover and half naked though I was, and drove them off! I slew that terrifying seabeast! I’ve raided ships for silks, spices, gold, furniture, that one really weird time with the chickens -”

Beau was definitely Beau now, not the judge.

“One, you’re always half naked. Two, I’m pretty sure that was just an ugly fish. Three, we don’t talk about the fucking chickens, Molly!”

“I am the vilest and most feared of pirates and I demand you put me up for immediate execution so my brave and loyal crew can mount a daring rescue.”

“Nope! My decision is final. You are cleared of all charges, except the one about crimes against fashion, for which you will immediately face the hangman.”

Molly gaped, lost. “Crimes against - I will not suffer this.”

He walked on his knees over to the crowd. “Won’t any of you save me from this rank injustice? Piracy I deserve, but crimes against fashion, never.”

His crew, traitors all to a soul, laughed at him. Well, someone was having fun. He shuffled himself away from them in a huff and found himself facing Caleb. He moved closer until he was almost at Caleb’s feet.

There, on his knees, hands bound and shirt torn, he looked up at Caleb with pleading eyes and a wicked smile.

“Please, you’re my last hope. Won’t you save me from these monsters with your magic?” He licked his lips. “I have many skills to trade for my life.”

Caleb went a deep, crimson red. Delightful. While Molly was enjoying this blush, perhaps a little too much, Nott leaned over and threw a ships biscuit at his head.

“Shut up and take your punishment like a man!” she crowed.

“Everyone is against me!” Molly laughed. “I’d rather die than face the heartbreak.”

“I also think you should take your fair and just punishment.” Caleb was looking down, still red in the face, his blue eyes sparkling. 

“Well, if you think so too…will you at least help a man to his feet?”

Caleb reached a hand down and Molly grasped it with his bound ones, leaned into Caleb to pull himself to his feet.

They stood close for a moment, only a moment, before Molly stepped back and bowed to Caleb.

“I go to my fate on my own two feet. Farewell! Fellow pirates! I go to my reward. Let there be piles of money and willing lovers in the afterlife! Your honour, I accept your sentence.”

Beau, cackling the whole time, ordered his ‘execution’. He was blindfolded and pushed back to his knees. Certainly not unfamiliar, though he did have a trace of nerves over what the plan was to simulate his ‘death’.

The shock of icy salt water dumped over his head was sudden and cruel. He gasped and fell forward onto the deck.

“Shitting hells, Beau,” he managed. 

“So passes Mollymauk Tealeaf, shitty pirate, who dressed like, well, that.”

A few seconds later his beloved crew were untying the blindfold, and his hands. He stood, drenched to the skin, hair plastered to his face, and massaged the blood back into his hands.

“Caleb,” he said, in honest delight, seeing that he had been one of those helping him out of the ropes. “What did you think of our performance?”

“It was amusing. Do you do that a lot?”

“It keeps the crew entertained when things are slow. And - “ Molly stepped closer to Caleb. “What about my little escape attempt? Begging for my life? That was alright? I got rather carried away by the moment -”

“It was all part of the fun, ja?”

“That’s right, all part of the fun.” Molly stepped back, regretful to be out of Caleb’s personal space, but unwilling to push even further in public.

“Nott enjoyed it a great deal,” Caleb said. “She laughed so hard when you were drenched.”

“I’m glad everyone enjoyed my abject humiliation. Where is Nott?”

Caleb pointed. Following the gesture, Molly saw Nott talking to Jester with a huge grin on her face.

“If she has a talent you should get her to practice it. We’re going to have people showing off if this dead wind goes on another day or two.”

“I will.”

“You too.”

Caleb waved the suggestion away. “You ought to - change,” he said instead. “You’re soaked.” He was looking anywhere except Molly.

“Hmm, get the seawater out from my boots. We’ll speak later, Caleb, that’s a promise.”

Later happened. Caleb sat next to Molly at evening meal, asked Molly if his hair was ‘supposed to look like that?’ - the answer being no, a drenching with salt water had done something terrible to his normally beautiful soft curls - and asking if Molly would mind if Caleb thought aloud a little.

Molly didn’t mind. He didn’t understand one word of the magical theory Caleb started talking about, but he loved the look on Caleb’s face, the mingled enthusiasm and focus. He ended up barely eating, instead just sitting, resting his chin in his cupped hand, and listening.

Caleb glowed when he enjoyed something. The care dropped off his face. Molly was so lost in that shining that he didn’t pay attention at all when someone pushed a tankard near him, and picked it up and took a swig.

Of what turned out to be neat rum in a tankard packed full of lime quarters. It was a singular flavour and Molly barely resisted spitting it out.

Looking up, he saw Jester cackling along with Nott and Beau.

“I knew you had done that,” Molly said. “I drank it on purpose to show you up.”

“Of course you did,” said Jester, “That’s why you pulled that face.”

Caleb had the wary smile he got when he wasn’t sure if the joke was on him, and Molly wanted it gone.

“One moment, please. I’m enjoying listening to you but I need to put these girls in their place.”

“A - alright?”

Without breaking eye contact with Jester, Molly drained the tankard, then pulled a lime quarter out of the pile and squeezed it on his tongue from above.

“Keep them coming, Jester,” he said. He returned his attention to Caleb. “Carry on.”

“I - no. I was being. You were bored, they were saving you, I should have been able to see -”

Caleb got up from the table and walked away, shoulders stiff and head bowed.

“No, Caleb, wait -”

It did no good. Molly glared at Jester.

“I said, keep them coming!” Might as well get drunk. And once your tongue was numb, the mix wasn’t that bad.

Molly did, in fact, get quite drunk. He kept waiting for Caleb to get back, and drinking the terrible lime-rum thing, and Caleb didn’t come back, and he kept drinking it. At the point his missed his footing trying to juggle half full tankards and threw them everywhere, Yasha physically picked him up, threw him over her shoulder and dragged him back to his cabin.

“I’m not undressing you,” she said, and dumped him on his bed.

“Completely fair,” Molly said, or hoped he said. “Yasha, why doesn’t he want me?”

“Who, Caleb?”

Molly nodded. His head was very heavy, and there was something hot and wooly stuffed behind his eyes.

“Nothing I do is working,” he whined. “All my really good tricks fail.”

Yasha made a considering noise. “I’m not so sure he’s the tricks type. Have you tried being straightforward?”

Molly tried to dramatically press the back of his hand to his forehead, missed, and backhanded himself in the face.

“That doesn’t work. People like to be seduced, flirtered - no? Flattered.” He rolled onto his side. “Have I lost it? Did I ever have it?”

Yasha sighed. “Go to sleep, Molly.”

“Love you, Yasha,” Molly mumbled into the pillow.

“Love you too, you great idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pirates did, in fact, love to put on mock trials when things were slow on deck. I know! I don't know if they ever got this ridiculous, but given how dramatic pirates were prone to being, it's safe to assume they did.


	9. Chapter 9

Molly woke up hungover, still dressed, and regretting both of those things. His head ached, terribly, and every time he moved he wanted to be sick. He smelled sour, even to himself. He groaned and buried his face in his favourite pillow. He couldn’t tell what time it was - light crept in around the cracks in his door, so it was daytime, but how late he didn’t know. Hard to tell with the ship becalmed and no-one doing their normal work.

Molly groaned again, and briefly wished for death.

There was a scratching at his door. Confusing. Yasha would just barge in, almost anyone else would knock. He staggered over and opened it a crack. Frumpkin slipped in, just like he owned the place.

“Go back to your dad,” Molly said, lying back down. “He doesn’t live here.”

Instead, Frumpkin jumped onto his bed and curled up next to Molly’s chest.

“Oh,” Molly said. “Hello.”

He reached out to gently stroke the silky-soft fur. Frumpkin rewarded him with a deep, loud purr. It was nice. Soothing. 

Molly was just discovering that Frumpkin loved being scritched behind his ears when the door opened. 

A familiar Zemnian-accented voice said - “Captain, I was looking for - ah, there he is.”

“He came to cure my hangover,” Molly said. “What a lovely boy.”

“He is.” Caleb’s voice was practically soaked with affection. “He’s my wonderful cat.”

Molly wasn’t jealous at all. Of a cat? Ridiculous.

Caleb hesitated a second, then sat down on the bed, to join in with stroking Frumpkin. Molly’s heart beat hard, ached in his chest. Caleb’s long fingers combed through the fur on the back of Frumpkin’s neck. Molly let himself picture what might happen if he lifted those fingers to his mouth.

Caleb smiled down at Frumpkin, and Molly thought he was beautiful.

“I was going to come find you eventually, anyway,” Caleb said. “Frumpkin just brought me here sooner.”

“Oh?” Molly’s mouth was dry. Maybe…?

“Ja,” Caleb said. Molly’s eyes flitted to the door. Caleb had left it ajar behind him. If this was going where Molly hoped, perhaps he should get up and close it? Would that look too presumptuous? “I had something to ask of you.”

“Anything,” Molly breathed, shuffling closer. Please, Caleb. Please.

“Who is Fox?”

Molly’s hopes had a sudden dousing, not unlike the one he’d had from Beau yesterday.

“Fox,” he said, flatly.

“There are a lot of rumours, and people are saying -”

“I can imagine what they’re saying. Pirates are terrible gossips.”

“And Nott is afraid. And me, also. I thought you might tell me. If you want to.”

Afraid. Caleb was afraid.”Don’t be afraid. Fox has nothing on my skills. I’ll beat him someday.”

“Who is he, though?”

Molly sighed. “He’s a privateer. He takes contracts from the Empire for merchants and soldiers from other countries. Other pirates, too. Not only does he destroy them, wherever he can, he takes a great deal of joy in doing it as slowly and painfully as he can. He’s a blight on the world, and he hates me.” Molly twisted the sheets in his hand until he heard them rip. 

“He’s never beat me,” Molly continued. “He’s tried and we drive him off every time. And I hate him because he - because he killed someone who mattered to me. The fact he didn’t have his men kill Fjord was making a point, to try and intimidate me. Tell me he’s always watching. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s acting like a scorned lover.” Molly’s face twisted up on itself as he said it. The idea disgusted him.

“He’s been obsessed with me since he took the first ship I served on - the ones who rescued me, I told you? - he killed a lot of them. But not all of us. I got my own crew, brought Yasha with me, the other survivors are safe. I took his hand. His right hand. He gave me two of the scars on my back. And it’s been like that since.”

Molly distantly realised he was shaking. He looked down at his hand on Frumpkin, moved it methodically. Good, normal. Looked normal. Looked like Molly.

“He doesn’t want to kill me. He wants to break me. And he’s not going to, ever.”

Caleb made a noise under his breath, and then his hand was covering Molly’s on Frumpkin’s flank.

“I am sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. You’re not him. And I’m a better person than he is, so -”

“Yes, you are.”

Molly looked up, only to be caught in Caleb’s eyes. He sucked in a sharp breath. Caleb’s gaze was wandering Molly’s face, as if he was trying to memorise every pore, every tiny flutter of eyelash, like even the tiny invisible hairs weren’t below Caleb’s notice.

Molly’s hand twitched under Caleb’s. Molly wanted so badly to be kissed, for all of this to have led to something, to let Caleb have him in whatever way Caleb desired.

Molly leaned forward, his lips parted.

There was a soft rapping and the sound of a throat clearing. Yasha, if he was any judge.

A few things happened in quick succession. Caleb pulled his hand off Molly’s, fast. Molly turned and glared at Yasha. Frumpkin startled, and jumped off the bed. The moment was completely ruined.

“Sorry, Molly,” Yasha said.

“This had better be life or death important, Yasha - “ Molly said, watching as Caleb fled his cabin in an awkward, flustered hurry and wishing that whatever Yasha had to say could have waited an hour. A day. Maybe a week.

“It is. Storm’s coming.”

Oh. Well, he supposed that was alright.

He sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“When?”

“Soon.”

“Alright. Get everyone ready, everything tied down. Let’s ride this fucker out.”

Yasha nodded. “I really am sorry, Molly.”

“Gods willing, I’ll have another chance.”

She patted him on the shoulder. “If we don’t all drown when the ship goes down,” she said.

“You know, if that was supposed to be comforting and supportive it was utterly useless?”

She threw a crooked smile at him and went to do her part for the ship.

With something to do, the crew pulled together amazingly. Everything stowed away so it wouldn’t fly around and decapitate someone, getting themselves as prepared as they could be. Hopefully the damage wouldn’t be severe, hopefully they’d all live, hopefully all would be well.

The storm came in full of rage and fury. One moment nothing, then a great darkness, and then the wind howling and the rain lashing. Ropes broke under the force of the wind, the whole ship groaned and creaked in protest.

Molly tried to keep the wheel steady, tried to keep them on course, but was knocked sideways, rain in his mouth and wind in his hair. Waves came over the deck, hard, grasping hands for unwary sailors.

“Get everyone below deck! It’s the only way we’ll make it through this!” he shouted into Yasha’s ear, who went about rounding up everyone who hadn’t already taken cover.

In the rain, Molly tied the wheel in position, and sent up a prayer to The Moonweaver - though no doubt Yasha’s appeals to the Stormlord would be more effective and useful. Still, you made your case and hoped for it to be heard.

As sure as he could be, fear and wild excitement warring in his blood, turning his gut to sour stew, he headed below decks.

He could see, rain-lashed and wild-looking like him, Caleb ushering Nott and a few of the other smaller crew members inside. Shutting the door behind them cut off some of the sound of the storm. Caleb looked worried.

“We’ve come through worse,” Molly told him, and didn’t tell him that every time was luck, not in their control. 

Caleb nodded, and as Molly tried to squeeze past him, the ship lurched, throwing him into Caleb and against the wall.

Molly caught his breath. Caleb’s hands were on his hips, Molly’s on Caleb’s chest. They were touching, and more than hands too. Caleb’s thigh was between his legs. The last time Molly had been in a position like this, the man he’d been with had been rutting against Molly’s thigh and Molly had been kissing him.

That wasn’t happening now, but this was Caleb, and Molly’s dick twitched and started hardening, in hope more than anything else.

Caleb was breathing fast and thin. His fingers twitched on Molly’s hips. His pupils were huge and dark. Molly shifted, despite himself, and felt - gods. Caleb was hard too, against Molly’s leg.

“Mollymauk,” Caleb said, and he sounded gravelly and wrecked. “Molly.”

“Yes,” Molly said, not even knowing what he was saying yes to, just that his entire being was lit up with one gigantic Yes.

Molly brought a hand up, with aching slowness. He didn’t want Caleb to startle, or panic. He wanted Caleb to know how much he wanted this. How much Molly wanted him.

The ship lurched again, sending them both sprawling to the floor.

Shit, yeah. The storm. He’d completely forgotten about that. Not wise, maybe, to fuck the man you’ve been mooning over in a cramped below-decks hallway in the middle of a storm, with panicked people all cooped up down there with him. Perhaps not his best idea ever.

“Are you hurt?” Caleb asked him.

“No,” Molly said.”You?”

“Ah, nein. I am fine.”

“Come on.You huddle in there until the storm passes.”

The room was full of people. Among them, Nott, who was giving Molly a narrow-eyed, suspicious look. Frumpkin came pelting when he saw Caleb and curled up in Calebs lab, and Caleb immediately moved to soothing the cat. Molly could have done with some soothing too.

So then it was just his job, his and the others who couldn’t be left in the room, to keep the ship upright and on course. 

As he left he heard Jester suggest a song.

Fortunately, the storm was as brief as it was violent. Only a few hours before it started to slacken. There’d been storms that lasted days before, hammering everything flat and dragging the ship miles off course.

Molly and his main crew - Yasha, Fjord, a few others - didn’t stop until they were sure it was done. And then, and only then, did Yasha go to tell the crew they’d be safe on board again.

They came out, staggering on wobbly legs, looking up to the sun. Molly saw all of them, dear to his heart, not a one missing or hurting. He saw Poppy fling her arm over the shoulders of one of the new girls, saw Nott say something to Caleb before darting off, Saw Fjord smirking at Beau’s new black eye.

“Everyone alright Jester?” 

“Fine and well,” she said. “Bruises.”

“Good.”

The sun was breaking through the clouds again, even if it was very close to the horizon, Molly was exhausted, and everyone was alive.

“I,” he announced, “Am going to go to sleep.”

And if, before he did, he had himself a time with the memory of Caleb, flushed and hard and pressed against him, he didn’t think that mattered one little bit.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok, mind those updated tags. This chapter is long and angsty, so take care.

Molly was looking forward to bed. An early night, a rare occurrence for him, and something to be enjoyed after the day he’d had. With a toy or two, if people would give him just an hour to himself.

He was occupying himself with these thoughts when he heard a high-pitched shriek from inside his cabin. 

He headed in at a sprint to find Nott, staring with horrified fascination into Molly’s special toy chest.

Molly smiled in a way that wasn’t friendly at all. “You know, I can’t help but feel you deserve this,” he said.

Not whipped her head around to stare at him instead, and then sprinted for the door. Molly was quicker, for once, and slammed it shut with his foot.

“No, no,” he said. His exhaustion was making the anger fiercer. It blew almost everything else out of his head. “No, you stay right here. What the fuck were you doing?”

“I was just looking!”

“No, I don’t think you quite understand just how much trouble you’re in. You don’t have the right to go ‘just looking’ among other people’s things on this ship. Try again.”

“I wasn’t stealing!”

“Well! That’s good to know, since stealing from your crewmates would be an utterly appalling and shitty thing to do! Never mind your Captain.”

Molly waited for Nott to answer, tapping his foot. His teeth were bared. 

“Nothing, Nott? Let me explain to you some things. We do not go through crewmates things. We do not steal from them. Doing anything like that aboard a pirate ship is asking for knife fights on deck and I will not have it, you understand? From anyone. We still from rich merchant ships, who can afford the loss, not from our own. I don’t care how you survived out there, do not pull that shit on board this ship.”

“I said I wasn’t stealing! I was trying to find out about you!”

Molly inhaled through his nose and leaned down to be at eye level with Nott. “And what,” he said. “Makes you think you have the right to know anything about me.”

Nott snarled at him. “Because you’re so obviously trying to bed my boy.”

Molly was taken aback, startled into silence.

“I’m not stupid,” Nott said. “I can see what you’re doing! I want to know why, what your plan is, what you’re hiding! I will kill you if you hurt him!”

“He already knows everything I’ve not told you,” Molly said. It wasn’t a lie, he realised. He’d told Caleb so much already. “If he hasn’t told you maybe it’s because he respects my right to decide who knows.”

Nott had her turn to look shocked. The idea that Caleb might not tell her something was clearly foreign.

Molly sat down on his bed, heavily. “I’m exhausted,” he said. “I was struggling against the very elements themselves to keep you and all the others alive. I’ve had a hell of a day. And I don’t deserve to be accused of things I’ve never planned on doing.”

“Like what?”

“Like hurting him. Nothing could be further from my mind.”

“Oh.”

“Have you maybe in all of this terrible decision making process thought that I might just like him? That I might not have secret nefarious plans? I don’t know what the fuck happened that’s got you both so wary and afraid, but I’m not any part of it.”

Nott was silent.

“You are in so much trouble,” Molly said. 

“I wanted to protect Caleb,” she said, mulish and stubborn.

“Sure, and doing something that might make the captain of the pirate ship you’re on think you’re stealing from him was the best way of doing that.”

Molly got up and opened the door. He called for Yasha.

“Yasha is going to put you on hard duties for a week or so. Nothing more than you can handle. Do anything like this again and I won’t be half so kind.”

When Yasha arrived Molly handed Nott and his instructions for her over, before collapsing into bed, no longer feeling any kind of good at all.

Sleep was deep, but not restful, and when he woke up later to, yet again, someone hammering on his door, he was groggy and out of sorts.

“What,” he said, opening the door to Yasha.

“Good news,” she said. “We’ve got a ship in our sights. Merchants, by the look of them. Fat bellied and wallowing in the water.” Yasha had a fierce grin he recognised.

“Finally,” he said. “Some money out of this trip.”

Molly grabbed his coat - better to be his full, most ostentatious self right now.

He shrugged it on over his arms, pulled his boots on - thigh high today, why not - and strode onto deck. Time to shout, bully, cajole, encourage. In short, Captain.

Under his orders the ship turned, full sail to catch up with the merchant vessel. When they were close enough, he ordered the colours flown.

Molly’s flag was a demon skull, sticking out a long forked tongue. It was very him, he thought. He liked imagining the panic on the face of the merchant captain on seeing it. Liked the thought of his name being spread among their crew like a vicious rumour. Mollymauk Tealeaf, terror of the seas. He shouted out an exultant laugh.

“Caleb! My wizard,” Caleb stopped and looked over at him. “Are you ready for your first raid?” 

Caleb looked at him with something unreadable in his face. “Will I have to kill anyone?”

“Hopefully not! Most merchants just give up, no fight in them.”

“I will threaten, I am willing to make them afraid.”

Molly headed over and patted him on the back. “Trust me, it’s gonna be easy. I’ve got a reputation. Surrender, and live. Nice and simple.” Caleb looked a little grey, tight around the eyes. “Don’t be afraid,” Molly said in a low voice. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“That - that’s not -” Caleb said, but Yasha called out the signal and it was time.

“Send them a warning shot, Caleb,” Molly said. “Anything, across their bows. Let them know we mean business.”

Caleb gave him a sickly, shaking smile and stepped back. He did something with his hands and - a ball of fire streaked across the sky, across the other ship. It missed rigging and sails, and fizzled out harmlessly.

“I can only do so many of those,” Caleb said.

“Holy shit,” Molly said. “That was -” he grabbed Caleb and kissed him on the cheek. “You are wonderful.”

High on adrenaline, Molly let go of Caleb’s arms and spun around. He moved like a dancer to the rail, and jumped to balance on it. He gestured, and his crew flung grappling hooks across the narrowing gap, to hold the merchant vessel and The Pretty Peacock close.

“Good friends!” he called across, to a frightened sailor on the other ship. “Lay down your arms and prepare to be boarded! No harm will come to you if you don’t fight!”

A woman he assumed to be the captain - a dark-skinned human wearing an amazing bicorn hat that Molly intended to have for his very own as soon as possible - raised a hand.

The merchant vessel dropped anchor. Molly gestured, and The Peacock did this same, before the gangplank was shoved across to bridge the gap.

Smooth and easy, just how he liked. 

“Caleb,” he ordered. “With me.”

He headed across the gangplank, with Caleb at his heels. Armed men and women boarded from other planks, some even clambering across the ropes themselves.

Molly bowed to the merchant captain with a flourish. “Mollymauk Tealeaf, terror of the seas,” he said.

“I know who you are,” she said. She looked sick and frightened, more so than even this deserved. Hm. He put that observation in a box.

“This is Caleb. He’s a wizard. He has more where that fireball came from, so everyone be nice and polite, yes?” The captain nodded. “I like your hat. I think I’ll have it.”

“Fine,” she said. Molly reached over and took it from her head.

“Suit me?” he asked Caleb. “Finally, a hat I can wear.” It nestled neatly between his coiled horns. Caleb smiled at him. Some of the anxiety had left Caleb’s face.

“Very flashy,” Caleb said.”It is...attention grabbing.”

“Ideal,” Molly said, smirking, then returned his attention to the captain. “Now, what are you transporting, dear?”

“Spices.”

“You hear that, crew? Spices! I love spices, so easy to sell on, worth so much. Now, I’m going to have some people head to the hold, get as much onto our ship as we can. No need to panic. Everyone gets out of this with lives and limbs intact.”

He couldn’t help himself. She looked so scared, brown eyes huge and haunted. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, in his gentle voice. “You must know that about my reputation too.”

“I know,” she said, choked. Her eyes flitted to the closed door of the captains cabin. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“This isn’t me, us. I tried to stop them.”

“Stop - shit.” He stepped back from her. “This is a trap.”

He turned, to shout a warning, but it was too late - the cabin door opened and armed men came out. Pirate hunters, Imperial navy if he was a judge. At the same time he heard what sounded sickenly like a scream of pain from the direction of the hold. No, no no, he shouldn’t have been so arrogant, so casual in his assumption it’d all be fine.

“Gather!” he shouted “To me, to me!”

He didn’t know how many of them there were. He was unprepared for this. For a second he was almost overwhelmed with panic.

No, no. Breathe, Molly, breathe. He could fix this, he could - the men were attacking, moving in from the cabin and below decks. He drew his swords.

“We can take these shits”, he snarled, before throwing a curse in infernal at the nearest one, leaving him stunned and shaken. He ran straight to him while he was wrong-footed. He felt no guilt at killing him, none at all. But he was just one, of many, and gods, it was going wrong -

A glance over his shoulder let him see Yasha fighting two at once, good girl, good Yasha. With her they might win this, if there weren’t too many - one of the pirate hunters rushed him, just missed as he moved out of the way with sudden grace, and Molly’ hamstrung him as he lunged. The man dropped to the floor, screaming, the noise -

“Shut up,” Molly told him and danced out of the way of another of them, backing up across the deck. All his people were fighting now, all the ones he could see at any rate, and it was chaos. Shouts of anger and pain and bodies clashing, swords crashing. Blood. There was blood on the deck. He slipped backwards on it, caught himself before he fell.

And he saw - Caleb, Caleb was backed against the side with one of the pirate hunters advancing on him and no, no. Caleb was bleeding, Caleb had blood on his face from a long cut and his eyes were empty and no, no, the man was readying his sword and grinning, sick, why wouldn’t Caleb protect himself, why wasn’t he using magic and Molly didn’t even think, didn’t even hesitate, he ran screaming, rage and horror and fear all burning in his heart, infernal and common.

“No no no no, you do not hurt him, you do not -”

The pirate hunter turned and sneered at him and Molly shouted at him, Molly drew his eyes, his ire, Molly would keep Caleb safe, he’d promised. He’d promised.

His gaze kept darting to Caleb against the rail, he was back in himself, back present, and doing something, readying some kind of spell, good boy. Molly was proud of him, and angry again at the blood on that wonderful face, that most important face.

He shouldn’t have got distracted. He shouldn’t have let his attention wander. That was all it took. There was a feeling like a punch, a punch right in his gut, only it hurt a lot more. The pain was bright white and it filled him completely, and he looked down to the sword in his gut.

“Oh,” he tried to say. Weird; the sword being pulled out hurt more than going in.

Molly’s legs went out from under him. He pressed a hand to his gut. Blood came over his hand. It looked so awfully red. Not quite real. He was running some kind of con, that was it, and this was fake blood. Obviously.

His mouth tasted of metal. His lips were wet. He slipped to the side. He could hear someone making an awful noise and realised it was him. And there was shouting. Someone was shouting. He lifted his gaze.

The pirate hunter had his sword raised. Willing. Oh. This was it, then, and he’d never even got to kiss Caleb. What a shame, what an awful fucking shame.

Then he went up in flames. What an interesting turn of events. Molly blinked through the pain and the fuzzy vision. Caleb was there, face twisted up. Poor Caleb. He hadn’t wanted to kill anyone. He was crying, the tears reflecting the flames.

Molly tried to smile and the blood ran through his teeth. The burning man stank, burned pork and hair and he wanted to be sick but there was nothing there. Molly tried to stand up, to wipe the tears off Caleb’s face, tell him it would be fine, but he couldn’t do that. He listed more to the side.

He went somewhere else, just for a second, because suddenly Caleb was next to him, pressing a hand to the wound in his gut. He was saying things, mixed up words from different languages, but the tone was clear.

“It’s alright,” Molly said. It came out sounding wrong. “Takes a long time to die from a gut wound. Watched it happen. Days sometimes.”

Maybe he hadn’t said out loud, because Caleb ignored him.

“No, no no no, nein nein, this does not happen, do not do this, not for me, not for me. I am not worth this.”

Molly grasped for his hand, leaving red wherever he touched.

“You,” he said, and couldn’t remember what else he was going to say.

“Jester! Someone get Jester!” Caleb was looking at him and still crying. Molly wanted to tell him to stop. It was alright. 

Molly pulled at his hand. “Did we win?”

No answer. 

“I am sorry, Molly, I am so sorry, this is going to hurt, but I think - I can stop the bleeding, with fire, I can -”

Molly wanted to tell him it wouldn’t work. Tieflings were fire resistant. But the words wouldn’t come and instead he watched the flames come to Caleb’s hand and go to his gut, and nothing happen.

“Bitte, bitte, I just want to fix this, I just want to fix something, not destroy it, PLEASE. Jester!”

“Caleb,” Molly tried. That one worked. Caleb looked at him.

“Don’t talk, Molly.”

“Caleb. Don’t go. Stay.” That was all Molly wanted. For Caleb to stay.

“Ja,” Caleb said. “Molly. I’m not going anywhere. Just stay awake until Jester gets here, bitte.”

Caleb was staring into his eyes and muttering in Zemnian. If it wasn’t for the dying thing, it’d be quite hot. Molly giggled. Nothing hurt any more. That was probably a bad sign, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Then there was a Jester. She looked very upset and there was blood on her pretty dress. That was bad.

“Hold still, Molly,” she said. And then, over his head, which was very rude “I have had to spend a lot of power. I can get him together enough to save his life.”

He felt the tingling warmth of her magic go through him, knitting flesh together in his stomach, arranging organs back into their rightful place - and then stopping, not quite all the way there and the pain was back, and it was awful.

Why was she crying too? What was wrong? 

“I need Yasha when she’s done with - with the bodies… help me with him. To his cabin.”

Molly patted her hand. It could wait. 

“I can give him more tomorrow. But, Traveller, he has lost so much blood.”

Jester was normally so pretty, but the blue of her face had gone ashy with tiredness. Her eyes, that normally sparkled, were dull.

“I want,” Molly said.

Jester gripped his hand tight. Caleb his other.

“I want,” Molly tried again “For this to stop hurting now.”

“Oh, Molly,” Jester said.”As soon as I can, I promise, I won’t let you hurt any longer than you need.”

“Ok,” Molly said, and closed his eyes.

And opened them a second later.

“Stop pinching me,” he said.

“You need to stay awake,” Caleb said. Caleb’s tears were dropping onto Molly’s hand and making the half-dried blood run everywhere.

“I’m so tired.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” Caleb sounded broken. Not good. Molly didn’t like that.

He saw a familiar black and white head approaching. She looked funny from this angle.

“Yasha,” he said.

“Thank the gods,” Jester said. “Yasha, help me carry him to his cabin.”

Yasha’s face was tight with fury. She was covered in blood. Not her own. “Don’t be mad at me,” Molly said.

“No, Molly,” she said, softly. “This is going to hurt, alright?”

“Alright.”

It wasn’t alright. Yasha got her arms under him, hips and shoulder, and when she picked him up. Molly screamed. 

“Please, please, don’t, it hurts, please!”

He hit at her with one of his hands. She ignored him. 

It was a painful journey. He was probably shaming himself by screaming and crying but he didn’t care. He didn’t care at all.

At last he was back in his cabin, laid down in his bed,and Jester was shoving a potion down his mouth. The pain retreated, a lot. Now it was more like just agonisingly horrible. But he still felt so tired. So empty and drained.

Jester was sitting there, eyes wet. “I prescribe lots of red meat. To put the blood back into you. And rest, Molly, lots of rest.”

“Ok. Can I sleep now?”

“You can. Someone will watch you, all night, all day.”

Molly smiled at her. “You’re a good girl,” he told her, and went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry.
> 
> Also, the magic in this no longer remotely resembles d+d and I don't care.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb backstory in this. Changed from canon backstory, using bits of my original headcanon, which was a good headcanon and deserves a memorial here. 
> 
> But it's still a pretty tragic backstory, so guard your heart.

He slept for three days, only waking to have potions and water dribbled into his mouth. Sometimes it was Yasha by his bed, other times Jester, or Caleb. When Caleb was there, he looked broken and guilty and Molly would go back to sleep just to avoid the pain on his face, because obviously Molly had done something wrong to put it there.

When he came round properly, enough to remember what had happened, it was Yasha.

She looked over at him, into his open eyes, and smiled. It was a sad smile.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” he said back. His voice sounded terrible, rough and unused.

Yasha sighed “You nearly died, Molly. You could have died. What the fuck were you doing? You - you were this close.” She held her thumb and forefinger a tiny distance apart.

“I feel like it.”

“No. No jokes. It’s never been this close before, Molly, never. I nearly lost you.”

Molly stared at his sheets. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Yasha clenched her fists. “You nearly got yourself killed.”

Molly tried a smile.”We at least get the spices?”

“Yes. When we’d killed the hunters the captain practically forced them on us to make us go away.”

“Wasn’t all for nothing, then.”

Yasha froze, and then to his shock and horror, sniffled and started crying.

“I’d rather have you alive and being a pain than any amount of gold and spices. And what did you even do it for? Because you’re in love with Caleb?”

Molly stared at her.

“Yasha, I’m not in love with Caleb,” he said. His heart was beating very fast. He was amazed he had enough blood in him to do that. “I’d know if I were, surely?”

Yasha blinked at him. “Oh gods. You don’t know.”

“I like him. A lot. I enjoy his company. I find being with him… it’s like every joy in the world is tenfold, when he’s there. And I really want to take him to bed. When I can do that again. But that - is that love?”

“You nearly died for him.”

“I’d do that for you,” Molly said, but something was prodding at his mind, insistent. The rage he’d felt, when he’d seen blood on Caleb’s face. The way Caleb always tugged at his heart and soul. But that - that wasn’t? Surely. He’d know. He’d know.

Molly started to breathe fast. His heart was beating far too hard. He felt dizzy. “I’m not,” he said again, but it sounded defensive and pleading, even to him. “How could I fall in love and not notice?”

Yasha patted him on the hand, awkward. “I shouldn’t have brought it up,” she said. “I assumed you knew.”

“I still don’t,” Molly said. “You aren’t always right.” 

Yasha gave him a pitying look.

There was a knock on the door and Yasha started, then looked absurdly guilty.

“It’s um. It’s Caleb’s turn for watching you.”

“Well, send him away!”

“That’s not worked at all in the last three days, I doubt it will now you’re awake.”

There was another knock, more frantic. Yasha got up to open the door. Caleb ducked in. He looked almost as bad as Molly felt. Molly smiled weakly at him and Caleb swore in Zemnian.

“You’re awake,” he said. His voice was thick and rough. 

“Yeah,” Molly said. He shuffled up the bed a little and winced at the pain in his stomach.

“Don’t move,” Yasha said. “It was a through-and-through, even Jester couldn’t completely fix you.”

“Do I have a cool scar?”

For a moment both Yasha and Caleb looked like they wanted to hit him, which was an improvement on the mournful, tragic faces they’d had before.

“You -” Caleb said, at the same time as Yasha growled at him.

Molly made his grin wider and even more carefree. None of this had to bother him unless he let it. Not one little bit. His gut and his back burned, his head ached, and he felt weak and useless and he didn’t have to care about it if he didn’t want to.

“You have a scar,” Yasha said. “I’m not sure about cool.”

Caleb had returned to looking tragic and exhausted. Molly wished he’d stop with it. 

“You- “ Caleb said. He was looking down at his hands, which were shaking.

“Get it out of the way,” Molly said. “Tell me off. Yasha’s had her turn, I’m expecting a queue out there to do it.”

“You shouldn’t have done that. Not for me.”

“Thanks, but I’ll decide who’s worthy of that, not you.”

Caleb wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the floor. He was breathing fast. Molly wanted to comfort him but didn’t have the energy or strength. He wanted to go to sleep. With Caleb beside him, to make him feel less lonely and afraid and vulnerable.

“I am not worthy of it. Of any of this. If you knew what I’d done-”

“Why don’t you tell us?” Yasha said. Molly realised, rather late, that she was furious. He was slow today. “Why don’t you tell us why Molly shouldn’t have got himself gutted for you?”

“Please,” Molly said quietly.”I don’t want you to do this right now.”

Yasha either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. She grabbed Caleb’s upper arm.

“Yasha!” Raising his voice hurt where the sword had gone through.”Please.”

She looked at him and let go, flinging her hand up in the air. She turned to face the wall and breathed deeply and heavily.

“Caleb,” Molly said. “I don’t care what you’ve done. You’re a good man.”

Caleb sat, heavily, in the chaise longue. Molly liked that chaise longue. He’d once somehow managed a threesome on it.

“He recognised me,” he said, still looking at his hands. “The man who - who hurt you. He recognised me. Widogast, he said. They’ll pay me a fortune for bringing you back in, on top of the bounty for Tealeaf’s severed head.” He recited it like he’d memorised it. “I lied to you.”

“Caleb,” Molly said, “This is a pirate ship.”

“I said I mutinied, and - it wasn’t - it wasn’t really true.” Caleb was digging his fingers so hard into his own thighs it looked like he was bruising them. “In a way it was, I - but - you have to be a person, to mutiny, and I’ve only ever been a weapon.” He was rocking himself back and forth now and fuck, Molly knew deep trauma when he saw it.

“You don’t have to,” Molly said. “I meant it. Nothing you can say will change my opinion of you.”

Caleb let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

“I - I killed - I was careless, I was trying to learn and get strong, I thought I was so clever. I - an accident and - I burned it all to the ground. My home.”

“Oh Caleb. Oh, love.”

“The Empire - the soldiers. They found me in the ruins. I was burned. They - they decided to use me. I didn’t care. I’d already broken. Why would I care? They pointed me, I killed. Over and over and over and over - They started putting me on ships, to hunt pirates, our enemies. Something happened. I started to come back. I started to care again. I wish I hadn’t.”

Molly looked at him. At Caleb. A wreck in his room, spilling all this poison out of him. Yasha was right, he thought. I love him. I love him. I’d kill for him, die for him, live for him. Molly sucked in a breath and pressed a hand to his heart, full of Caleb, Caleb, Caleb.

“Nott had snuck on board. A stowaway. They found her. They dragged me out of the room they kept me in. They wanted me to hurt her. For fun. I wouldn’t I couldn’t. I burned the captain instead. A mutiny of sorts, I suppose.” He laughed again, and Molly ached.

“When you came, they were taking me back to see what should be done with me? They kept Nott alive to stop me killing them all. We talked. I liked her a lot. I’d been in that brig two weeks. They kept coming in to hit and kick me. I thought it was the least I deserved.”

Caleb stopped. Finally. Yasha was silent. The room was close, small, claustrophobic. Caleb’s pain filled it up, leaving no room for anything else.

“Do you want my honest response?” Molly asked.

Caleb nodded, misery etched deeply onto his face.

“That isn’t even the worst story I’ve heard from someone on this ship. I don’t care. Or - I do, but only because you do. There’s always a chance for a fresh start. I told you that, I believed it then, I believe it now. I’d get stabbed for you again, in a heartbeat.”

Caleb looked up. Shock and disbelief smoothed out his face, making him look years younger.

“Hate yourself all you want,” Molly said, too tired to dress it up. “But I’m not going to. And if you think you’re the only person on board this ship to have done something terrible because that was the way to survive, you are very wrong.”

Molly lay down, wincing again. “Now, I’m sore, and I’m tired. I want to rest. Please figure out that you’re worthy of forgiveness while I’m doing that, I cannot be bothered with telling you so. Yasha, if you hit him, I will never forgive you. You’re right, by the way.”

“Oh,”Yasha said. “Molly.”

“Yes, yes,” he said into the pillow. “I don’t have the energy to care.”

Before he drifted back off into sleep, he heard Caleb ask “Right about what?”

He woke up… later, head fuzzy, a small hand on his shoulder. He started, which made his wound hurt, which made him shout.

“I’m sorry!” He knew that voice. Nott? “You have to eat, is all, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he said. Now that he was more awake he could smell something good, wholesome. He hadn’t thought he was hungry, but apparently he was. “Oh, I could eat.”

Nott presented him with a bowl of something - soupy? Jester’s orders, probably and after he took it she crawled up onto the bed with him.

“Nott,” Caleb said, from the chair beside the bed. “Let the man eat.”

Molly looked over to Caleb and smile. He was reading, of course. He looked - better. More together. When he raised his head to meet Molly’s gaze there were fewer ghosts in his eyes, more life. Molly could have looked at him all day.

But Nott was pressing a spoon into his hand.

“Eat!” she said.

“Alright,” he said, with a laugh.

Gods, he was hungry. He ate every scrap of the soup, which was rich and meaty and spiced. And once he was done he felt… well, alive-ish and awake-ish which was better than ten minutes before.

He gave the empty bowl to Nott, who cradled it like it was precious. She looked at him and he looked at her.

“I’m glad you didn’t die,” she said. And then she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

“Oh,” Molly said. “So all I need for you to like me is to nearly die. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Shut up,” she said. “You - Shut up.”

She slid off the bed and padded out of his room. Alone with Caleb, who had - been there, while he slept, watching him. Who had apparently been insistent on being with him before Molly woke up.

“I have something important to ask,” Molly said. His heart was pounding in his mouth. Caleb looked at him with a soft, tender smile. Molly thought about the possibility of Caleb’s face changing, of it switching into discomfort and regret, of the possibility of Caleb turning down Molly’s love, these new and precious feelings. He couldn’t bear the idea. Which is to say, Molly chickened out. “What happened to the hat I stole?” he asked instead, with a cheeky smile.

Caleb started laughing, helpless. Molly was struck, again, by the force of his unexpected, accidental love for this man.

“Jester brought it over. We got the spices too, I know that was the next thing on your mind.” It hadn’t been. But Molly nodded as if it had. “Your coat is ruined, though.”

Molly remembered the sword sliding through his whole body, the shocking pain of it, slipping in the pool of his own blood, lying in that pool as the people around him cried. Because he had been dying.

He swallowed. “I expect it is.” His hand was shaking again. He didn’t want it to.

Caleb must have seen it, how dreadful to have his weakness on display like this, but how wonderful to have Caleb’s hand on his. How wonderful to have Caleb looking into his eyes. Caleb licked his lips. He looked nervous.

“What is it? I need to hear it, sooner rather than later.”

“It ought to be someone you know better who tells you.”

“I’m asking you.”

Caleb sighed. His grip on Molly’s hand grew tighter. “Four people died. The pirate hunters-”

Molly closed his eyes. “Who?”

Caleb gave him the names, in their entirety. Two of them had been with him since the beginning, two more were new to his crew. It didn’t matter - each one of them was someone who had trusted him and followed his orders and now they were dead. 

He’d lost people before, of course he had. He was a pirate. It was a dangerous life. But this felt different. He’d been arrogant, showing off, and he’d missed the signs.

“Oh,” was what Molly said. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry, Molly.”

“For fucks sake, will people stop apologising to me? I lived! Others weren’t so lucky!”

Caleb just looked at him. Molly pulled his hand away from under Caleb’s. He wanted to be a shit. He wanted to make Caleb stop looking at him like that. Like Molly was fragile and important and being stupid about something.

“I am sorry that you are in pain, and I am sorry that you lost people, and I am sorry that any of this happened at all,” Caleb said. “I am very glad you are alive.”

Molly huffed, looking up at the ceiling. “What are you reading?”

“It is a very dull and dry history book, Molly.”

“Read to me? It might send me back to sleep.”

Caleb flicked to a page, and started reading. Molly was asleep within minutes, soothed by Caleb’s voice. He had what he assumed was a dream, where Caleb’s cool, calloused hand smoothed the hair back from his face. It was a nice dream, so he didn’t try to wake up from it.

Not all of his dreams were so good.


	12. Chapter 12

Magic healing was wonderful. It was only a couple more days before he was back on his feet, walking his cramped Cabin. He did have a scar, brutal and jagged down his midsection. Apparently it had an equally awful partner just to the right of his spine. When he first saw it, he had a little moment. His existing scars highlighted his good looks and dangerous reputation. This scar was just ugly. His first trip out of his cabin and onto deck, he wore a higher cut shirt, to cover it. Avoid the questions, the talk. He had to be fine. He had to be Molly.

A few deep breaths. “I am Mollymauk Tealeaf,” he said to himself. “I know who I am. Infamous pirate, terror of the seas, incurable flirt.” His tail flickered in anxious spirals behind him.

He straightened his new hat between his horns. The him in the mirror was thinner than the Molly he remembered, more strained around the eyes, more prominent at the bones of his face.

He didn’t feel so much like himself right now. But he could fake it, until he did again. The crew needed stability, for things to be the same again.

Another deep breath and he stepped out onto deck. As if she’d been waiting for him, Beau headed over to him. She hadn’t visited him at all when he’d been in his rooms; everyone else had, eventually. She crossed her arms and frowned at him.

“I’m not gonna be nice to you just because. You know.”

“I wouldn’t expect it. Not of you.”

She hesitated, then punched him - lightly - in the arm. “That’s for scaring everyone. Not me. I didn’t care at all.”

“I know.” He patted her on the cheek. She scowled at him and stomped back to work again. He watched as she walked towards Yasha and - oh. Stopped and kissed Yasha on the cheek. They both went red on realising he’d seen.

Molly headed over. “You didn’t mention that change,” he said to Yasha.

“Didn’t seem relevant.” She buckled under the force of his raised eyebrow. “She uh. I was upset and she - she came to talk to me about it. And stuff. Happened. It’s very new.”

“I’m pleased for you. One of us ought to get what we want.”

Yasha looked surprised and confused. “You - hmm.”

Molly flapped a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out. I always do.” He hoped he meant it. “I’ve been thinking. We need a party of some kind. A celebration of my survival, a goodbye to those we lost. Could you arrange such a thing?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is. And then to port. I want - I want to sell this shipment and spend a lot of money on drink.”

“We’re already on our way back. Me and Fjord decided it was what you’d want.”

“Oh. Good instincts.”

Yasha draped an arm around his shoulders. She held him very tight. “If they’d killed you,” she said.

“Don’t,” Molly said. “I don’t want to think about that any more.”

“If they’d killed you,” she repeated. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Good thing we didn’t find out. No more of that now,” Molly said. “I’m here.”

“A party, then. Break out the rum and the best of the remaining food. It’ll be salt meat and ships biscuits for the two weeks back to port, I hope you know that.”

“We’ve had worse.” When Yasha still looked unconvinced Molly lowered his voice. “Please, Yash. I need this.”

She closed her eyes. “It’s hard enough to say no to you normally. Right now? Whatever you need, Molly.”

He kissed her bare shoulder. 

“I’d best check in on Jester,” he said. 

“I’ll set up the party for tonight,” Yasha said. He blew her a kiss. And other kisses to the rest of his crew as he passed them. They all seemed pleased to see him up and about and… Mollyish. Like something in their world had shaken, trembled, but ultimately held true. He wasn’t about to disappoint them. 

Jester was in her tiny cabin, organising jars and bottles in a chest. “Molly!” she said, cheerful as ever. “All good?”

“Wondering about getting some more of that scar balm of yours. The new one still pulls a little.”

“Of course I will give you some.

“You recovering alright? You did a lot of healing over the last week.”

“I am fine. It was tiring but I saved everyone who could be saved.” She reached for a small glass jar full of a greenish balm. “Hey, Molly,” she said in the tone he’d learned to dread. “How come you never told me this was a pirate ship?”

Molly sputtered a bit. Jester let him suffer for a moment then started laughing.

“I knew ages ago, silly. But still, you never did tell me.”

“My apologies. Jester, this is a pirate ship.”

Jester mock-gasped.

“Shocking. Can I stay please?”

Molly opened his arms wide and let Jester settle into a deep hug. “Of course you can. What would we do without you?”

Jester started shaking. Molly ignored it, like a gentleman. Eventually she broke the hug. Her eyes were bright and her face a darker blue about the cheeks.

“Thank you,” she said, then sudden as anything “Oh! Have you kissed Caleb yet?”

“I - that is none of your business, Jester, and why would you even think that he wants me to kiss him - does he want me to kiss him? Has he said something to you?”

“Nooo, silly, it’s just obvious.”

“Caleb wants - “ Molly’s heart jumped with the wild joy of hope. “Caleb wants me?”

“Well, I think so, and Fjord thinks so. We’ve got a bet on so if you could kiss Caleb soon I would be very happy.”

“You little shit,” Molly said, overwhelmed with affection for this, his friend. Jester grinned at him and stood on tiptoes to press a little kiss to his nose. “I’ll see what I can do,” he laughed. 

He took his leave of her, feeling more himself and with a jar of new scar balm, and ready for the party tonight. Maybe Caleb did want him. Maybe it wouldn’t be disastrous if Molly were to try a more straightforward approach, as unnatural as it felt to him.

But what if Caleb said no? Molly stopped in his tracks. Molly had been rejected before, and it had stung, but he had got over it soon enough. There was always someone else willing to soothe the bruised ego. But it would be worse this time, Molly knew. The way he felt about Caleb was an all consuming thing, a bright and burning light. Rejection wouldn’t just sting this time, it’d break his heart.

A few weeks ago he’d suggested that Yasha just move on Beau, that it was better to know one way or the other and make her choices from that point on. He wanted to laugh at himself. It seemed such easy advice from the outside, but the idea of following it himself was terrifying.

He decided to put it away, stop thinking. He always did better acting on impulse anyway. He leaned over the side, looking out at the sea, glittering under the sun like diamonds were caught in the waves. A curl of his long hair blew in front of his face.

His awareness of Caleb was so much he could tell the man was behind him before he cleared his throat.

“Caleb,” Molly said, voice warm as the sun on the back of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder for his first view of Caleb in good light since before he’d - since before.

The light showed that the cut that had caused the whole problem had scarred, a long line across Caleb’s cheek, cutting into his stubble. Molly’s gut went cold seeing it. He reached out a hand, stopped himself from touching at the last moment.

“It scarred,” he said.

“I wouldn’t let Jester waste anything on me, not when you -”

“Stupid man,” Molly said, the ache in him overwhelming. “Ah well. It just makes you more handsome.”

“Liar,” Caleb said, with a devastating smile.

Molly licked his lips. “There’s going to be a party tonight. Will you be there?”

“I live on board the ship.”

“You’d prefer to hide and read a book, I know you. But I’d like it. If you could at least - for a moment or two.”

Caleb nodded, and with a great deal of gravity and sincerity, said “For you, then.”

Molly swallowed. Wanted to just blurt it out - I love you, I love you. Caleb, I’m in love with you. But it wasn’t right. Molly wanted - he wanted it to be right. If it was right, if it was perfect, surely Caleb would say it back. If he could find a way of guaranteeing that, he would, but failing a surefire thing he’d control what he could.

Molly would wait. Until it seemed right. Maybe at the party, maybe with a little liquid courage in him and the moon above them and the stars bright in the sky and the laughter of others he would be able to spill out his whole heart. Or maybe he never would, because he was a coward who’d rather never know if there was the faintest chance the answer was no.

He guessed he’d see.

The day crawled into evening, while he tried not to be a pain involving set up, got in the way while the barrels of rum were rolled out of the hold, and got his hand slapped away from food at least once. But then they were at anchor, and the sun was setting, and it could be done.

First things first, a solemn toast to those they’d lost, and a sentimental song. There were more than a few tears, but he’d not judge. His own rum burned going down, settled into a nice warmth in his stomach. Second step, a toast to his own survival, and a second shot of neat rum.

He shook his head, and watched his crew eat and talk. A couple of people started up a song, more joined in, and soon people were dancing on the deck. He smiled. He felt warm and a little tipsy, enough for him to be a little reckless. He glanced around for Caleb.

Caleb was shockingly among the dancers. He was moving awkwardly, holding his arm up to let Nott twirl through the gap and smiling down at her like she was unimaginably precious. The look had a strange familiarity to it that nagged at Molly’s head. Molly tossed back another shot, which was probably a bad idea less than a week out of losing almost all the blood he had. He got up on legs that felt a little unsteady and headed closer, to watch Caleb.

Caleb caught his eye as he moved and dropped Notts arm, sending her towards Jester with a gentle laugh.

“You really care about her,” Molly said when Caleb got close to him.

“She taught me I could still be a person. I could still feel.”

Molly laughed under his breath. The third shot was hitting him now, and harder than he expected. “I’m glad,” he said. “Because I - oh fuck. Caleb, will you come with me? Somewhere quiet?”

“Of course.”

Molly’s heart was pounding. He felt sick with nerves. He hadn’t felt like this the first time he remembered having sex even, that had been a little scary but mostly inevitable and really, really good.This was very different. They moved away from the noise a little, closer to the prow. Molly stumbled a little on his stupid legs, almost tripping on his own tail.

Now they were alone he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how people did this. He should have asked someone, Jester maybe. He fell back on what he did know.

“Caleb,” he said. “Would you like to kiss me?” His fingers twitched at the fabric of the coat. He smiled up at Caleb, please, please.

Caleb said nothing.

Molly panicked.

“Please,” he said.”I’ve not been able to think of anyone except you in… weeks. I want - I want to go to bed with you. I want to make you smile. I want to wake up with you in the morning. You have no idea the ways I’ve imagined you. I’ve been flirting and flirting and Yasha said try being straightforward, and so here I am, trying straightforward. Please come to bed with me, Caleb Widogast.” He grasped Caleb’s hands in his own and lifted them to his mouth, pressed a shaky kiss against Caleb’s knuckles.

“You’re drunk,” Caleb said, sounding very far away.

“Tipsy. Alright, drunk. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want. I want you, only you, I want to touch you and make you come and I want - I want things I don’t even how to name, your smile and your hands and all the pain you carry and - please. Please. This is the most - I don’t even know how to say any of this.”

Caleb closed his eyes. “You don’t -”

“Don’t tell me what I feel and don’t feel. If you don’t want me just say so.”

“It’s not that. Of course I - have you seen you? You’re drunk, Molly, you’re swaying,and you nearly died and - Molly. I will talk to you about this tomorrow. When you are sober.”

Disappointment and hope were warring forces in Molly’s poor, inexperienced heart. “Tomorrow,” he repeated. “When I’m sober. Do you promise?”

Caleb laughed out in a shaky breath. “I don’t think I could keep myself away. I need to be… sure.”

“Well I am. But if you need the confirmation I’ll wait. That’s all I’ve been doing anyway. Waiting for you.”

Caleb groaned and rested his head on Molly’s. “I - tomorrow.” he swore in Zemnian. “Tomorrow, Molly.”

“Kiss me,” Molly begged. “Just that.”

Caleb groaned again. “Tomorrow,” he said again, like it was all he could say. “If you can still mean this tomorrow. “

“I will.” Molly swayed into Caleb. “I didn’t mean to get this drunk. I guess my tolerance is fucked.”

Caleb cupped Molly’s face in his hands. He brushed a shaking thumb across Molly’s cheekbone. “Let me walk you to your cabin,” he said.

“Alright,” Molly said on a sigh. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

Caleb left Molly at his own door. Molly could have tried to drag him inside, but it would be wrong after Caleb said he wanted to wait. Molly was a lot of things, among them desperate for Caleb, but he wasn’t that. 

Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm a dreadful tease.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is just 7 pages of filth. We earn our E rating, loyal readers!

Tomorrow came, and with it the duties and work expected of him, and conversations had to wait until the evening. He spent the day seeking out Caleb’s eye and smiling at him, nervous and tender. And the day passed, at a painful crawl, with nothing from Caleb but a returned smile, and Molly started to doubt, to wonder.

As soon as he could he went to his cabin. He hovered by the door, ready to open it at the first knock. His tail drummed against wall with nervous energy. Maybe Caleb wouldn’t come. Maybe he’d thought better of it, decided Molly wasn’t what he wanted -

Molly was saved from spiralling self doubt by Caleb’s rapid knock. Molly opened the door so fast Caleb almost fell in.

“Caleb,” Molly said, letting the name fill his mouth. It was his favourite thing to say. 

Caleb looked at Molly’s face, all of Molly’s face, gaze darting. “Last night,” he said, and there was something in his voice. They were very close.

“Last night,” Molly agreed.

“Do you - remember what you said -?”

For a moment, Molly thought - he’s trying to get out of this. And then No, he wouldn’t be so cruel about it. He’s trying to give me an out. A way to discard everything I said as only drunken gabbling, forgotten and never spoken of again. It would be easier, no doubt, to return to a place where he wasn’t standing in front of Caleb with all his vulnerabilities and wants exposed. For once he didn’t want the easier option, or the lie.

“I remember,” he said. “And I meant every word I said.” As well as a few he’d not said.

Caleb let out a long, shuddering breath and reached for Molly. He cradled Molly’s face in his hands again, like he had the night before. Molly felt right like that, with Caleb’s hands on him. It was both calming and exciting.

“I never dreamed a man as beautiful as you could want me,” and there was so much in that, so much about Caleb’s past and the horrors in it, and Molly wouldn’t let it stand.

“What,” he said, “Handsome, kind, clever, gentle, and sometimes funny? What could I possibly see in someone like that, you’re right -”

“Shut up,” Caleb said, laughing.”I want to kiss you.”

“Oh,” Molly said. “Please, please do.”

And Caleb did. He was slow with it, running his thumb over Molly’s bottom lip before pressing the gentlest of kisses there, barely more than a breath of a touch. Molly gasped, opening his mouth, and Caleb ran his tongue along Molly’s bottom lip, where his thumb had been just a moment before.

Molly threw his arm around Caleb’s neck, ran his hand through Caleb’s hair, which made Caleb gasp too and that was good, so good, and the kiss got harder, Caleb pressing their mouths together firm and sure, sliding lips over lips and his tongue into Molly’s mouth. Molly pressed his body against Caleb, wanting, wanting, worked up by a simple kiss - he walked them backwards until the edge of the mattress dug into the back of his legs and knocked him down to sitting. 

And then he was sitting on the bed, Caleb standing between his spread legs with a hand in Molly’s hair. Calebs mouth was wet and reddened, his pupils were huge, his gaze hot. 

“How, uh, how far do you want to take this tonight because - because I am fine with anything, trust me on that, I’ve had nothing but my hand since we started this journey -”

“I’ve not even had that,” Caleb said and oh, he was almost growling. Molly shuddered with delight and desire mingled.

“Poor boy,” Molly said, letting all the want creep into his voice. “We should do something about that.”

“How - “ Caleb shook his head. “I know you like it rough,” he said, but there was a question on his tone.

Molly grabbed for his thigh, squeezed it. “I do,” he said. “Don’t you worry about that. You can - whatever you want,” he finished, breathlessly.

“Whatever I - “ Caleb said, before kissing Molly again, hard and passionate, forcing Molly’s mouth open with his tongue, fucking Molly’s mouth with it, really and Molly sent up a prayer of thanks to The Moonweaver from the depths of his heart for this moment. 

When Caleb broke the kiss Molly felt dizzy, weak in the legs, all the blood and sensation in his body rerouted to his lips and his dick. He shuffled more into the centre of the bed to give Caleb some room and beckoned him, tail thumping wildly behind him.

Caleb followed him onto the bed on his hands and knees, hungry gaze focused entirely on Molly, before taking Molly by the shoulders and shoving him backwards onto the mattress. Molly moaned. Caleb crawled so that he was over Molly, and carded a hand through Molly’s curls, before grabbing a fistful and pulling, which made Molly thrash and wail and made his dick, already hard and aching, start begging for some kind of touch.

“Gods,” Caleb said, his accent thick. He bent down to Molly’s exposed neck and pressed a shaking kiss there. “I - “ he said into Molly’s ear. “I saw you covered in marks, you remember? At the book stall. You - all I could think was about replacing them with mine own.”

“Please, please, Caleb. Mark me.”

Caleb groaned against Molly’s throat, and then bit down at the junction of neck and shoulder, sucking hard and worrying with his teeth. Molly arched up, rubbing his trapped and aching dick against Caleb’s thigh.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Molly chanted as the pain sent shockwaves of sparking pleasure all the way through him.

Caleb stopped sucking at his neck and murmured “You are perfect,” into the mark he’d left. His hands were roaming, frantic, over Molly’s arms and chest. He lifted his head to stare into Molly’s eyes, started tugging at Molly’s shirt.

“Get this off you,” he said, almost slurring the words. “Want to see you.”

He pulled clumsily at Molly’s shirt and with a loud sound it ripped. Both of them froze, before Molly started laughing.

“Don’t, “ Caleb said.”It’s not my fault it was held together with six stitches and a wish.” He was laughing too, just a little huff of air. Molly reached up to touch his face.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It was kind of hot, actually.”

Caleb’s eyes darkened again. “Really,” he said.

Molly nodded, and Caleb reached between their bodies to press his palm against Molly’s erection. “Apparently it was,” he purred. Molly rolled his hips.

“Caleb, fuck,” he said, bringing his thigh up between Caleb’s.

Caleb ran a thumb over Molly’s nipple, which made Molly sigh out a long breath. Then - wicked man, who’d have dreamed Caleb would be like this in bed - he bent his head to it, taking it into his mouth and biting down. Molly’s answering cry made Caleb press his hips down and, oh, wow.

“You - you’ve been keeping secrets, Caleb.” Molly said. “That feels like something I want inside of me yesterday.”

Molly had experienced a lot of dick in his time and size had never been a major concern of his - everyone had skills and he was good at bringing out someone’s best in bed. But Caleb felt good, hard against his thigh. Thick and long and Molly wanted it.

Caleb groaned and kissed him, control gone, wet and hungry and with a lot of teeth.

“I’d love to, but I don’t have the patience right now. I’ve been hard over you for weeks without even a moment to myself -”

“Alright,” Molly gasped. “Alright.” Caleb’s hand was on the front of his trousers, rubbing him through them, fiddling at the fastenings -

“How do you get these - fucking things off?”

“There’s a tie - at the back. For the tail -” and then Caleb had his hand in the small of Molly’s back, untying them. He grinned in triumph and pulled the trousers down to Molly’s thighs, baring his cock.

“Gorgeous,” he said. He traced a finger up the shaft, over the bumps and ridges of Molly’s dick. “Never seen anything like it.”

“Tiefling,” Molly said. “We don’t look like humans and for the love of fuck stop staring and please touch me.”

“You have a pierced dick with some very interesting shapes and expect me not to stare and picture it inside me?” Caleb’s tone was mild, but his eyes were glazed and desperate. “Unkind, Molly.”

“I don’t care, I don’t care, I’ve been dreaming of you touching me, Caleb, please. Please.”

“Give me a moment, only a moment, Molly, please -” Caleb was fumbling with the fastenings of his own trousers. He pushed them down enough to reveal his dick, which was just as mouthwatering as Molly had imagined, and then pushed Molly down into the mattress again.

“You are maddening,” Caleb told him, and fucked his tongue into Molly’s mouth again, as he line their dicks up together. Molly wriggled, clasped his hand with Caleb’s around their erections.

Caleb thrust his hips with a stuttering motion and the friction - finally, some fucking friction - had Molly moaning aloud again. Molly was wet with his own precome already, desperate for anything Caleb would give him. With his free hand, Molly pushed Caleb’s shirt up and wrapped an arm around his back.

Caleb made a noise almost like a sob, an aching wanting noise and Molly’s hand stroked down over scar tissue to Caleb’s flexing ass. He grabbed a handful, encouraged more active thrusting against Molly’s dick, groaning and sighing the whole time.

He lost himself for a little while, devolved into loud babbling, broken words and Caleb’s name and swearwords and he was close, close, he just needed - just needed a little more, needed something else - Caleb was kissing and nibbling along his jaw, his neck, Molly bared his neck,angled it temptingly and Caleb bit in again, giving him two matching marks on both sides, this one to be lost among the colours of his tattoo, and it was that, the bite that made Molly whine and shout and tilt his hips up and come all over their linked hands before sinking back into the bed, panting, eyes rolled back in his head.

He heard Caleb swearing, opened his eyes to see Caleb kneeling above him, gaze flicking between Molly’s face and his body. Molly pictured how he must look, fucked out and sweaty, half dressed with his torn shirt rumpled around him, no wonder Caleb was jerking his cock like he wanted to rip it off. Caleb shouted out something that sounded like a mangled version of Molly’s name and came, cock jerking, warm come splashing onto Molly’s purple chest. He collapsed sideways, gasping. After a while, he reached out, touched Molly’s arm.

“That was amazing,” Molly said when he got his breath back.

“Hmm,” Caleb agreed. “Almost worth the wait.”

“Hey, I was pretty clear right from the start that I’d happily fuck you.”

Caleb didn’t answer, just looked at Molly with something incredibly soft in his eyes. He had delicate crows feet forming in the corners that crinkled with his smile. “We ought to clean up,” he said. 

Molly ran a finger through the rapidly cooling and drying come on his chest. “I have rags in the cabinet.”

Caleb grabbed one, wiped his hands off, and then wiped Molly down, with a great deal of tender care. He rested his head on Molly’s shoulder and wormed his hand under Molly’s back. Molly shifted to allow him easier access. This physical clinginess was unexpected, but good.

Caleb’s free hand traced down Molly’s chest, and onto his stomach. It found the twisted scar there and hesitated.

“Don’t,” Molly said. Caleb lifted his head and looked at Molly.

“You hate it,” he said. “But you like all your others.”

Molly offered up a crooked smile. “I can’t explain it.”

Caleb propped himself up on an elbow, and bent his head, and kissed Molly’s scar. Very gently, with feather-light lips, he pressed kisses all the way down the crooked, angry line.

Molly caught his breath.

“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

“I know,” Molly said. “But keep telling me?”

He slipped his ruined shirt off and left it where it lay, wriggled out of his trousers. Caleb’s eyes went gratifyingly hot and dark at seeing Molly in his full, naked glory.

He pushed at Caleb and rolled them both over so that Molly was on top of him, straddling his hips. He brushed a clawed hand through Caleb’s hair, looking at his face with wonder. How could someone come to mean so much in just a few weeks?

Molly wanted Caleb naked. It only seemed fair. He pushed at Caleb’s shirt. Caleb sucked in a breath. His face was still.

“I’ve seen them before,” Molly reminded him, gently. “I’ve seen them before and they didn’t stop me -” loving you. “Wanting you.”

Caleb looked up into Molly’s face for a little while, and finally nodded. Molly smiled, genuine, softer than he meant to, and helped Caleb take the shirt off. Caleb lay back again, looking nervous, uncertain, and Molly cradled his face in one hand. 

“Gorgeous,” Molly said.

There were a lot of scars, so many, but they were beautiful, Caleb was beautiful. The scars made Molly sad, but happy too - sad for what Caleb had lived through, but glad that he was here, with Molly.

Together they got Caleb’s trousers off, and then they were both naked, skin against skin. Natural, primal, oh so right. 

Caleb’s hand came to rest on Molly’s hips, his thumbs rubbing tiny circles into the skin. His face was full of a warm glow. Molly bent to kiss him, darted his tongue into Caleb’s mouth. Caleb’s hands slipped lower and one brushed against the base of Molly’s tail.

Molly couldn’t bite back a moan. His tail was sensitive.

Caleb spotted that. His eyes got a hungry gleam to them. “You like that?”

“Hmm,” Molly said. “I do.”

Caleb moved his hand, twisted it carefully around the base of Molly’s tail. It was like there was a line direct from his tail to his dick. It sent electric sparks up his spine, into his brain, muddling him up with want. Molly bucked his hips and sighed. He was getting hard again.

“Fuck, Molly,” Caleb said.

“Oh, yes please.”

Caleb huffed out a breathless chuckle. “Insatiable -” he said. “Do you - oil, Molly, if you want - I’ll need to open you up -”

Molly slid off his lap, noting the sigh of loss Caleb couldn’t suppress. He grabbed the oil and returned, handing it to Caleb.

“Don’t go easy on me,” he said. “I can take it.”

Caleb closed his eyes. “Are you trying to kill me?” he asked. “It feels like you are trying to kill me.”

“Hmm, what a way to go, though.”

Molly settled back over Caleb. He didn’t think he’d ever laughed so much during sex before. There was a lightness here amid all the passion and desperation that he loved. Caleb’s eyes crinkled up with his smile. He ran a hand up Molly’s thigh.

“Will you let me fuck you? Like this? You riding me? I want to see you.”

“Yes, Caleb. Happily.”

Caleb beckoned him and Molly crawled up his body to get at an angle where Caleb could finger him. Caleb started soft, one finger, not enough even with Caleb’s long, clever hands. Molly looked him in the eyes and said “More.”

Caleb groaned and added a second finger, scissoring them, stretching Molly out. Clever man, he brought his spare hand back to Molly’s tail, massaging and pulling at it from the base, getting Molly to writhe and moan. It was good, so good, but not what he wanted. Good but not enough, good but not nearly enough -

“Please, please Caleb, please. More. I want more.”

Three fingers, and that was - Molly wailed out Caleb’s name at a particularly rough pull on his tail. Caleb hesitated.

“Keep going, I like it!”

“Oh. Oh, Molly, fuck.”

Molly opened his eyes to gaze down at Caleb, who looked completely wrecked, ruined, and by him, by Molly. 

“You wanna fuck me, Caleb?” Molly said, voice low and rough. Caleb nodded.

“Please,” he said. Caleb gently pulled his fingers out of Molly’s ass.

Molly took a moment to reangle himself and grab the oil, slicking up Caleb’s impressive cock. Once that was done he grabbed Caleb’s cock by the base and lined himself up.

He slid himself onto it by increments. It was thick, and made him feel so full, with a tinge of pain to the stretch that ramped him up higher, made him throw his head back and whine. He raised his hips again, rolled them, taking a little more each time. Caleb gripped onto his hip so hard it must be bruising him, gasped out Molly’s name.

Finally, Molly was fully seated, ass flush with Caleb’s body, the whole amazing length and thickness inside him. He wriggled a little, just to feel it, hard inside him, almost overwhelming.

“Fu-u-uck,” he sighed.

Caleb lay there with his eyes closed tight, mouth open and wet and red. Molly grabbed for one of his hands and put it on his tail before he - slowly, slowly - started to move.

“Molly,” Caleb said, voice broken and desperate. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Molly said. “You’re -it’s thick, Caleb, fuck.”

Thick and hard and in him and just brushing the edge of pain and Caleb pulled at his tail which made him whine and it was good. He picked up his pace, his thighs aching, the slap of skin a rythmic noise, his pulse a hard beat in the hollow of his throat. He opened his eyes a hazy slit to see Caleb biting his lip, gaze fixed on Molly in awe.

That made Molly want to show off a bit, really give Caleb the good shit, so he started rolling his hips in earnest, pushing himself at a ruinous pace. Caleb yanked his tail and that pain with Caleb’s dick filling him, brushing all his sensitive place had him shouting loud.

“It’s not gonna take me much longer,” he said.

Caleb nodded and brought his free hand to Molly’s dick. Clumsy with lust but still good, to have those cool hands touching him, to have pain and pleasure and soft affection all at once, enough to make his movements stutter, enough to make him desperate, enough to have him babbling nonsense. He could feel orgasm approaching, a great sea of heat and pleasure and want in him, almost there, it was rising, rising, almost there. He was saying Caleb’s name over and over and then Caleb did something wonderful, something amazing, the hand on Molly’s dick twisted at the same time as the hand on Molly’s tail and Molly ground himself down onto Caleb’s dick and came. Everything went white for a second, his mind blown completely clean and blank by the force of it.

When he came back he was collapsed over Caleb’s chest, and Caleb’s dick was still hard in his ass. Caleb’s hand was wet with Molly’s come.

“Keep going,” Molly gasped. “Use me.” 

He lifted Caleb’s come-streaked hand with his own shaky one and licked it clean. Caleb groaned., gripped Molly’s hip tight, and pounded in.

Molly pressed his face against Caleb’s chest, bit at it. It hurt, it hurt, but it was a good hurt, a right hurt, he was fucking flying. Caleb sped up at Molly’s teeth on his skin and it wasn’t long before he shouted, coming deep inside Molly. He kept thrusting a moment, weaker every time, grunting, and Molly loved him. Molly loved him.

They lay like that for a while, breathless and content, and Molly loved Caleb, and would always love him. Molly would live and die with this love a constant thing, even if Caleb never returned it. He pressed a hand to Caleb’s lips and Caleb kissed his fingertips.

"Will you stay?" Molly asked. "Stay here with me tonight."

"Yes," Caleb said. And Molly was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY
> 
> But note. No L word. And the story isn't over yet...


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK. A promise. I will not EVER write sexual assault into this fic. I'll probably not write it into any fic 'on screen', as it were - I personally would find it far too triggering to do so. However in this chapter and in the following chapter there is a villain character whose behaviour has an undeniable sexual undertone. If that's going to bother you, the plot is summarised in the below chapter author notes.

The next morning, Molly woke to Caleb curled on his chest, breathing heavily. If pressed, Molly would have admitted it was a snore. It was a good thing to see and hear and feel. The soft out-breaths of Caleb sleeping.

He woke slowly, blue eyes blinking open and slowly sharpening into focus.

“Morning, darling,” Molly said.

“Morning.” Caleb looked up into Molly’s face, his eyes. “Was - was last night -”

“Marvellous,” Molly said.”I will happily repeat it tonight, and tomorrow night, and the night after -”

Caleb smiled, but still looked a little uncertain. “I cannot stay every night,” he said. “Nott will worry.”

“Oh.” Molly hid the sharp plunging disappointment under a casual smile. “Whatever you need, Caleb.” He had kind of thought that Caleb would be moving into Molly’s cabin, but perhaps it was too soon for something like that. Molly had no idea.

“Well,” Molly said. “If you can’t be here every night -” he got off the bed and over to his jewellery chest. He dug through for a moment, before finding it - the necklace he always wore, the first one he’d bought with his first share as a pirate. His own. Simpler than some of his later acquisitions, a simple gold chain with a moon-shaped pendant dangling off it. “If you can’t be with me every night, you can have a part of me.”

Caleb took the necklace in his hand. “Molly,” he said. 

“Please,” Molly said. “If you can bear to wear it - you don’t have to, it’s just -”

Caleb shook his head. “Put it on for me?”

He sat forward on the bed. Molly knelt behind him and fastened the clasp at the back of his neck. Caleb’s skin was cool, and Caleb was trembling.

“There we go,” Molly murmured. “There we go.”

Caleb pressed his hand to the gold charm and smiled. Then he and Molly dressed and went on with their days.

It went like that for a few days. Caleb would come to his cabin, they’d have sex. Sometimes Caleb would stay, sometimes he wouldn’t. Molly preferred when he would, but never said so. Easier to pretend to be fine with anything. Caleb had had so much struggle in his life. Molly wasn’t going to pressure him.

Another thing Molly didn’t do was tell Caleb he loved him.

Oh, he had himself plenty of justifications. Just because Caleb cared for him and wanted him didn’t mean love. Caleb might run a mile at the word. Molly didn’t want to put any obligation on Caleb’s thin shoulders.

The truth was that he was scared. But it was fine; he was alright with this. He had almost everything he wanted. They would be back in port soon, and maybe Caleb and he could have some time alone together to figure things out, in a place where Caleb had more power, more say.

He ignored the small, protesting part of him, the part that wanted to grab and not let go. The part that wanted to scream his love to the sky, wrap it round Caleb as a blanket.

He had a plan. Or, a sort of plan. An idea, at least.

Unfortunately, these things never happen as people want them to.

It went wrong in increments. A ship, spotted off starboard. Molly recognising it. 

It was Fox, his ship, waiting for them, lurking for them in familiar waters. Molly’s fury was immense. He was so sick and tired of this game. Years and years and many deaths from it. First mistake. Molly gave the order to intercept.

He should have thought. He should have used his fucking brain. Falling right into what Fox wanted, what Fox had planned. Perhaps he put the anger from his near-death into this, perhaps he’d wanted to prove himself to himself once again. Whatever it was, this was the result. This was the end result and it was all his fucking fault.

The fight had been quick and brutal, and Molly had thought they might even win it, that Molly could end this mess here and now and put Fox at the bottom of the ocean where he belonged. 

Molly wanted to laugh, but any move now could destroy everything. Because this is how it was, this is how they were. Three of his crew at knifepoint, and one of them was Caleb. Caleb was on his knees and Fox’s knife was on the delicate skin of his precious throat. Caleb swallowed and that movement, only that, made the knife break the skin. A bead of blood travelled down Caleb’s throat.

“Mollymauk,” Fox said, in his fake high-born tones. “I heard you had a wizard. And I thought - that’s not fair! I want a wizard.”

He smiled.

Fox might have been handsome if he weren’t so appalling. He was a slim half-elf with a sharp-angled face and dark blonde hair. His smile always gave him away. Calling it predatory would have been an insult to predators. It was cold and empty and vicious.

Caleb closed his eyes.

“No,” Molly said. He was standing in front of Fox and his crew, arms out, willing to beg. “Let them go, Fox.”

“Why should I? What have you got to offer?”

Molly swallowed. “Myself, of course.”

Fox’s smile dropped as if it had never existed. Instead he looked, sickenly, like a lover being accepted - full of joy and disbelief and satisfied want.

“Very tempting, Molly. Very - but why would you do such a thing?” 

He ran the knife down Caleb’s vulnerable throat. Caleb was staring at Molly, desperate and pleading. The knife caught on the chain of the necklace. With an awful inevitability, Fox hooked the knife under the chain, cutting Caleb again. He lifted the necklace free of Caleb’s neck.

“This is yours, Molly,” he said, tone silky. “I’ve kept a note of every single bit of gaudy trash you hang off that body, and I wondered why you weren’t wearing this one.” He bit his lip. “I’d ask if you were fucking him, but quite frankly, that was always going to happen. But this, this speaks to more than fucking him.”

Molly kept his voice steady. “What do you care, huh? You can have me, torture me, turn me over for the impressive bounty - whatever you want. Just. Fuck, you don’t want him. He’s broken. Can’t even make him kill.”

Caleb flinched. Molly hoped Caleb would forgive him. But then, would Molly even be able to care about that soon?

Fox looked like he was considering.

“I’ve got two such wonderful options,” he said. “I can break you by taking your pet here and leave you knowing exactly what I’ll turn him into, or I can take you and use all my tricks in person! Spoiled for choice.”

Caleb had been broken before, turned into a weapon, forced to hurt and kill until all that was left were bones, and he’d been rebuilding that in front of Molly’s own eyes. Molly would let anything happen to him if it would save Caleb from a repeat of that life. Molly could bear it.

“I know you, Fox.”

Fox tilted his head. “Do you? I wonder.”

“I know you. You’ve wanted me for years. You really gonna pass that up for a nobody?”

Fox took the knife from Caleb’s throat.

“Will you come without a fight? Leave your ship and crew behind? I guarantee, the next time they see you they won’t know you at all.”

“I will.”

Behind him, Molly heard Yasha shout. He shook. If this was what it took to make up for his fuckups, to keep them safe. To keep Caleb alive. If this was what it took.

“Well then. Do it.”

Molly stepped forward until he was within arms reach of Fox. Then closer. 

“Run along, little wizard,” Fox said, and kicked Caleb in the ribs, before pressing the knife to the beating pulse in Molly’s neck. “Don’t any of you dare move for him or I’ll kill him right in front of you. Men? Kill the other two captives.”

Molly cried out. Fox laughed. Two more of Molly’s crew went down, bleeding.

“Should have been more specific, Mollymauk Tealeaf.” Fox said his name like it was a joke.

Fox walked Molly off his ship, at knife point. Molly glanced over his shoulder to see Caleb, being supported by Jester and Yasha, face bleak. Gods. It had to be now. He had no future any more.

“I love you,” he mouthed. He didn’t know if Caleb understood.

-

Fox’s ship stunk. It was the sick reek of fear and hate. Molly let Fox take him down to the brig and chain him to the walls. He looked at the walls instead of Fox, when Fox squatted in front of him.

“I’m so glad to have you here,” he said. “You took something from me, Mollymauk, and I’m going to get it back from you. And if I can’t, at least I’ll finally have my revenge.”

“I never saw you before the first time you killed friends of mine,” Molly said, mouth numb.

“Oh, no, see - there you are, walking around, ruining it. It was mine.” Fox tilted Molly’s face up, made eye contact with him. “I will get him back from you,” he breathed. “My Lucien.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary.
> 
> Molly gives Caleb his most important necklace. On their way back to port, a battle ensues, with Fox, the villain mentioned in previous chapters. Fox captures three of Molly's crew, including Caleb. Molly offers his own captivity in return for them. Fox agrees to this, and takes Molly on board his ship, where he calls him 'Lucien' and promises to get Lucien 'back' from Molly and if that fails get his revenge.
> 
> Molly mouths 'I love you' at Caleb before being taken aboard.
> 
> -
> 
> I'm... sorry???


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Final Chapter.
> 
> Warnings for mild-to-moderate torture and death (not of anyone you like).

Molly had been expecting pain, torture. He didn’t get it. Instead, after removing every scrap of horn jewellery, the first thing Fox did was cut his hair. He was slow, careful, used scissors and not a knife. His long fingers turned Molly’s face how he wanted it. 

Molly kept his eyes on the wooden planks of the walls. Memorised the knots in them, where the splinters were. That one had a mark in the wood grain that looked a little like a sheep. He liked the sheep. The sheep didn’t put its awful fingers on his skin.

The scissors ground softly over the strands of his hair. His long curls fell around him, brushing his face and neck. Molly refused to flinch, tremble, or even blink. He just stared at the wood.

Fox brushed a clump of his once wonderful hair off Molly’s face, let it fall onto Molly’s lap.

“That’s better,” he said. “Lucien never needed flash for people to know how beautiful and dangerous he was. Shame I can’t get rid of the tattoos.”

“I’m not Lucien,” Molly said. His mouth felt stuffed with fabric. “I’m Mollymauk. That’s Captain Tealeaf to you, though.”

Fox sat back on his heels and sighed. “I can be cruel too, you know. I can hurt you and hurt you and hurt you some more until you give up what you’ve stolen and give me back my Lucien.”

Molly laughed. “I don’t care,” he said. His head felt light without the weight of his hair, and he felt the chill of the air more. Loose hairs prickled down the back of his shirt. The length of the curls on the floor was awful, they coiled up like dead things.

Fox’s hand was on his face again,on the un-tattooed cheek. 

“You look so like him.” He was every inch the grieving lover, only sickened, warped. “But you’re the sort of man he’d have loved to hurt.”

Molly wanted to scream. Every awful nighttime horror he’d had about what sort of man had lived in his body before him was true, all of it. He’d been a monster. Most of all he was afraid, terrified, that Fox was right. That some kind of pressure could crack open the void of memory loss and bring this thing back into the world. And how much worse might he be, with five years of non-existence to catch up on?

“Maybe,” Molly said. “But I’m the one who’s alive, so I guess I won.”

Fox’s face went blank when he was angry. Good to know. Carefully, with the amount of force perfectly planned, Fox hit him Molly in the mouth. Molly tasted blood.

“That’s more like it,” Molly said. 

“I won’t let you taunt me into ruining his body more than you already have.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it, Fox, I can be very fucking annoying.”

Fox stood up and turned his back.

“Like,” Molly said, furious. “I wonder why he even ended up me, you know? Whatever it was he wasn’t with you, was he? Did he leave you? Did you send your thugs after him and regret it? No, that would mean you had actual real feelings.”

For the first time Molly saw Fox’s mask break as he spun around, and fuck, it was terrifying. All fury and frustrated entitlement. And then Fox was choking Molly and Molly’s hands were had limited movement so all he could do was try and shuffle back. He couldn’t breathe, his vision was going grey at the edge, there were spots in front of his eyes. He couldn’t breathe.

Fox let go. He was panting. 

“Don’t test me, Molly,” he said. “I’ve done worse to people who did nothing to me.”

Molly coughed and coughed, gasping in breath after breath. Fox left and locked the door after him.

He let his head fall back against the wall. He would find a way out. And if he couldn’t, he’d rather be dead than Lucien.

He lost track of time. He tried, but Fox came in to no obvious pattern, and there was no light in the brig. All there was was the rock of the ship and distant sounds sometimes. Sometimes Fox would come in and make him drink water from a cup Fox held, or eat from Fox’s fingers. The first few times he refused, spat it back in Fox’s face. But then there was no water, no food, and he wasn’t so proud he would starve himself for the sake of it.

He hated it though. And he was sure his face told the truth. 

Fox started asking him questions.

“What’s the first thing you remember?”

“I was naked in the Emperor's bedroom, covered in dessert.” Molly earned an extended kicking for that one. It was worth it.

And again. “What’s the first thing you remember?” and the water, and the food. And again. And again. So many times. Sometimes woken from sleep, sometimes after what felt like hours of unbearable anxious boredom in the half-dark and sometimes right in the middle of Molly’s regular attempts to wriggle out of the manacles, the same attempts that were leaving his wrists sore and bruised and bleeding. He felt sore all over all the time. Fox was keen on simple hitting and kicking, though Molly didn’t doubt worse was in his future if this continued. The monster was starting to get a look that spoke of blades.

One day Fox came in, with the water and the food. Not enough of either. Molly accepted both, and Fox put the cup and bowl down out of reach. 

“Molly,” he said, like he was Molly’s friend.

“Captain Tealeaf,” Molly said. His mouth was swollen from Fox’s last visit.

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen, Molly. I am going to get Lucien back. And when I do, he and I are going to track down your shitty little boat, and torture everyone on it to death. We’ll take especial time with that wizard pet of yours.” He talked like he was deciding what to have for lunch. “And if there’s anything left of you, you’ll see it, and you’ll be screaming.”

“Fuck off. You’d never manage it. I’d watch out if I were you.”

Fox grinned. “I have no doubt your crew are trying to track us. But I’ll win.”

Molly shook his head. “I know something you don’t, Fox.”

“What’s that,”

“It’s a secret. Lean closer.”

Fox did. Molly gathered the dry and fresh blood in his mouth up with a healthy amount of spit and launched it right into Fox’s eyes.

That’s what made him use the knife for the first time. Still worth it. Molly managed not to scream. What was this, compared with being gutted alive? Nothing, nothing. This was - a stubbed toe, a hangnail. 

Molly leant against the wall and breathed, just breathed, until Fox left.

The next time Fox came he came with determination. This was probably it for Molly. It had been a good life, and in the end of it he’d loved enough to lay belly up for the sacrificial knife. He’d not stolen from the poor, he’d not killed when he didn’t need to, and all that had to count for something. 

Fox was asking again, the same question, and Molly just refused to answer. He smiled a little instead. He was thinking of Caleb. He was thinking of Caleb in the sunlight, of Caleb naked in his bed, of Caleb kissing him.

“Love you, Caleb,” he said under his breath, hoping that somehow he might hear it and know it, that it would bring him joy and comfort in the world.

Fox planted a boot on Molly’s chest and pushed him over. He had a knife, wickedly sharp.

Gods above and below, let it be quick, though in fact he thought it wouldn’t be.

All the same, he was ready as he was ever going to be.

He kept the image of Caleb in his head. If he had to go, it’d be remembering his soft half-smile, his blue eyes, the crinkle at the corners.

The ship moved under him. Then harder, almost a roll.

“What the fuck?” Fox said, at the same time as a definite roll of thunder.

Molly snapped back into the real world.

“Was it a clear sky, Fox?”

“I’ll deal with you later,” Fox said. 

“I don’t think you will. I know what this is!”

He waited. Then breathed out.”Yasha.”

The storm hit out of nowhere, and with immense force. The ship was flung about on the waves like a toy. Molly, low on energy, not enough food in his stomach, was still ashamed to be sick. Not much came up, and it was thin and full of bile. He pulled against the chains, and heard another boom of thunder, followed by screaming and yelling.

He started laughing.

It seemed Yasha had persuaded her god that he was worth the energy. A feat not predictable, not to be relied upon, and not available in the first fight. And the thing was that without him, none of his crew would be restrained in their anger. They loved him. Fox’s crew were just afraid.

He pulled against his chains, harder, not caring about the pain.

The door shook, jerked, and came off its hinges, only to be thrown away. And Yasha was there, hair dripping with rain, the hallway dark behind her.

“Yasha,” he said. He watched her mismatched eyes trace over him, the bruising, the dried blood, the hair gone from his head.

One stride had her at his side and breaking the chains with her bare hands. The manacles were still on his wrists, but he was free.

“Let’s go fuck them up, babe,” he told her.

She propped him up - he was embarrassingly wobbly on his feet - and led him from brig to deck. And the chaos there made him exult. His crew were winning, filled with their love and their anger and the power of their gods and whatever magic Caleb had. He saw Nott, clambering in the rigging, shoot a crossbow bolt through a running sailor and shriek to the sky. He saw Fjord, fighting fierce, and Beau darting her way through the ship. And he saw Caleb, lit up with his power, glowing with it. Gorgeous. He was gorgeous. And advancing on a terrified form, on his back, crawling away on his elbows.

“Fox,” Molly said, with real venom.

Yasha walked him over. Caleb looked up and saw him. The hot blue glare of his eyes dimmed, and for a moment he was just Caleb, looking at Molly. His hair whipped by the rain, his face broken open by love. Molly must have been blind not to see it before.

Then he, too, saw the injuries, and looked down at Fox. 

“You,” he snarled.

His hands were flame.

“No,” Molly said. “Let me.”

Caleb gave him a savage, murderous smile. 

“I’ll hold him for you.”

Caleb’s hands still burned. When he kneeled on Fox and pinned him, Fox howled.

Fox’s knife was on the wet deck. Molly picked it up. His hand was steady as he approached the monster.

“Lucien,” Fox said. “If you’re in there.”

“I told you,” Molly said. “I’m Mollymauk. And it’s Captain Tealeaf to you.”

He went to his knees beside Fox. The knife was very sharp. It took no effort at all to slit his throat.

“World’s better off without you. Or him,” he said, watching Fox bleed out, his eyes go blank, his face go still.

He looked up into the storm, let the rain wash over his face. Then Caleb was beside him, no longer glowing, just a man. Just a man that Molly loved.

“Knew none of you would leave me here,” Molly said. Caleb gathered him up in his arms and sobbed into his shoulder.

-

Once they were back on board The Pretty Peacock, the storm cleared as if it had never been. Caleb set Fox’s ship on fire and the look on his face was pure revenge. He kept his arm round Molly’s waist and they watched it burn together, sending up a plume of dark smoke into the sky.

They watched until the ship started wallowing, the sails came crashing together. Then Molly had to go with Jester, for healing. Caleb wouldn’t leave his side. They left Yasha, Beau and Fjord watching the burning ship. Watching it die.

Before Jester healed him, Nott picked the locks on the manacles open. They fell to the ground with a metallic clatter. She looked at the mess that was his wrists.

“Oh, Molly,” Nott said.

“I never stopped trying to get out.”

“Of course not.” Nott wrapped her arms around his leg, tight. Oh. That was nice. He looked and caught Caleb’s eye. Caleb had a watery, trembling smile.

“Jester’s gonna heal me,” Molly said. “Then it’ll all be as if it never happened.” The bruises and cuts pulled in his flesh. 

Jester smiled, and did her wonders. Bruises faded, cuts healed. Even the teeth that Fox had loosened sat strong back in his gums. But Jester couldn’t regrow his hair, or find all the jewellery that Fox had taken. He felt deeply wrong without either. Not Molly.

“I want to go to bed,” he said. “Fucker barely let me sleep. I don’t even know how long I was there. Felt like weeks.”

It was the closest he could get to explaining how he felt. Happy to be free, of course, but also strange and disconnected and bleak, like he was floating an inch above his own body, tethered only by a thought.

“Five days,” Caleb said. His voice sounded wrong. “Five days. I marked every one.”

“That few,” Molly said. “I’m going to bed.”

He went. Caleb followed. Into his room, onto his bed.

“No offense, darling, but I cannot get you off today. So if you were hoping -”

Caleb reached for him. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“I don’t think many people have ever said that to me before. Yasha, maybe.” Molly lay down on his back. Let Caleb reach an arm over him, press his ear to Molly’s chest, above his heart. “People don’t typically want me just for cuddles.”

Caleb’s arm was good. Grounding. He focused on it. The weight of it over his body, the golden hairs where Caleb’s shirt sleeve had ridden up, the pink-and-white distinctive bubbling of burn scars. He settled back into his body a little more. 

“I like this,” he told Caleb. And then “I love you.”

There wasn’t a response, unless a pause in breathing could be considered a response.

“You don’t have to love me back,” Molly said.”That’s alright. But I love you and loving you probably kept me going in there, and I don’t think I’m going to stop. So there it is.”

Caleb lifted his head. His eyes were bright in the dim light of Molly’s cabin. 

“Not love you back?” he said. “As if I could stop myself.” He was smiling, small, hopeful, tender.

“Oh,” Molly said. He felt as if the moment needed a little more. He didn’t have it. “Can we go to sleep?” We can celebrate this when I feel more myself.”

“Of course.”

Molly slept.

He woke some uncertain time later with Caleb wrapped around his body like a blanket. Caleb was awake, and looking at Molly’s face like he never wanted to stop. Molly felt a little more Molly-like already, but thought it would probably be a while before he came all the way back. It had been a rough few weeks. That was alright though, Caleb would be there.

 

“I was thinking,” Molly said. “You could move in here, if you wanted.”

“Is there room for my books? I plan to get a great deal more.”

“I suppose I could get rid of the chaise longue.”

Caleb propped himself up on an elbow and stroked Molly’s face. “I love you,” he said.

Molly put a hand over his. “I love you too.” It felt wonderful to say it, to know it was shared. “But do you still think I’m pretty? Look what he did to my hair.”

Unspoken. Am I still me? Am I still yours?

“Hair grows,” Caleb said. “You’re still pretty.” 

He kissed Molly soft, full on the mouth.

They’d be back in port soon, and Molly could recover with Caleb in his arms and bed, and a monster was gone from the waves. In some not-too-distant future, Molly and Caleb would make a name as a pair to be feared, their love would be in the same songs as their skill and danger. Molly knew that. But for now, right now, he was Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to his friends, and he was in bed with the man he loved.

It was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it, friends!
> 
> Can I just take a moment to say I am so astonished and overwhelmed and pleased that all of you loved this so much? I never thought my silly little AU would get even half this attention and love. Thank you. I stopped being able to respond to all the comments a long time ago, but I love and appreciate every single one of them.
> 
> There'll probably be a couple of smutty one shots in the same universe, but not for a little while. In the meantime, if you're hungry for Widomauk, I particularly like my fellow writers (and good friends) mebeshe, byzantiiine and myriadofcolours - comment here, darlings, so that people can click and read your work.
> 
> And if you particularly enjoyed my little descriptive asides, do check out my new fic Goodnight To An Old Soul https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762324/chapters/34137605 - it's less funny and more descriptive than this one, and will be even longer. 
> 
> I appreciate you all. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. Leave your thoughts in the comment box.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me at Bisexualpiratequeen on tumblr for multifandom screaming.
> 
> Thanks to the widomauk discord for encouraging me in this. You're the best fandom community I've ever been in. You know who you all are.


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